Keep the Faith
by alees-sa
Summary: She's a girl who likes bread, dressmaking, and a boy who looks good in red. And Enjolras can't get her out of his mind. She's constantly on the lookout for a certain ex-convict and all he wants is for her to have just a little faith in him. AU Enjolras/OC
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

He was gone by first light. Anne-Laure could pretend this was just another day. Anne-Laure could pretend that he had classes early again. She could pretend she had briefly woken up minutes earlier, listening to the tremors and ups-and-downs of his voice as he grumbled about a bourgeoisie-praising professor of his as he prepared for his day. She could pretend she would see him later in the Musain, furiously scribbling out his next speech. She could pretend she would spend her day making new dresses for both the bourgeoisie and the working women of Paris. Anne-Laure could pretend to be happy. Anne-Laure could pretend she would see Enjolras again later.

Enjolras left her, just like how Jean Valjean (then _Monsieur le Mayor_ ) left her. Except the older man left in the cloak of the night and on the run from a vengeful Inspector, leaving behind 60,000 francs to Anne-Laure's name and a few thousand more for Fantine's burial.

Enjolras, on the other hand, left and rode on the cape of daylight. He left Anne-Laure behind, taking her love and her faith with him.

This morning Anne-Laure felt numb. It was the same sort of feeling she had back then when she realized Monsieur le Mayor was truly gone and was never going to return. At first, there had been hope. She had hoped that the lies and prayers she and the nuns told would save him from the galleys. She had hoped that the monsieur would find Fantine's beloved child and bring her home. Hope drained out of her, like a drought making a river shrink away, when the papers declared Monsieur le Mayor as the ex-convict Jean Valjean. Anne-Laure could never hate him for his past, but she couldn't be blamed for losing hope that he would ever return to her.

She had hoped, she had pretended, she had been disappointed. Anne-Laure was on her way to making the same mistake twice, this time with Enjolras.

But Anne-Laure was not just Anne-Laure anymore. Anne-Laure would soon become a mother, and Enjolras would be a father even if he didn't know it yet. She had to make sure her child's father would be there to see him or her grow (Anne-Laure felt another pang in her heart for Fantine).

So Anne-Laure pretended one more time. She slipped out of bed as if she wasn't numb with pain and grief. She stalked over to the closet where her sewing table was kept. She rolled the table out from the closet, the wheels beneath it squeaking in protest. It needed to be oiled; Anne-Laure couldn't remember the last time when she bothered to care. Some of the _Les Amis_ had banded together to build the simple contraption for her when she and Enjolras moved into this apartment. They built it back when they were just close friends from the university and not revolutionaries.

Anne-Laure closed her eyes. _Not now, not now._

Her latest work still lied under the needle, finished and perfected. It was the last article of an outfit befitting of a thin, teenage paperboy from the streets of Paris. A loose-fitting and grimy shirt, pants that ended too short, an oversized and flimsy cardigan, and a newsboy cap made up the entire ensemble. It was an outfit that would make the rich ladies who wished they were in court faint and the devious criminals smirk with delight. If Anne-Laure put it on after placing binding around her chest, she would definitely look the part (it wasn't her idea - it was thought up by that gamine from the streets called Eponine). She wouldn't be suspected - boys of all ages seemed to flock to the barricades. The Les Amis were always eager to welcome anyone.

She had far less than one more day now; perhaps she only had a handful of hours.

Anne-Laure wondered if she even believed in the future Paris only Enjolras could see. She could understand why he would die for this dream, why all of them would die for this dream. But could she do the same? Could she risk the life of her child for the chance to save the life of her love? What was Anne-Laure against the bullets of Paris? How did she expect to save this man when she wasn't even sure what she would be up against?

'Keep the Faith.' It's been a favorite line of his from the very beginning, but now it only sounded like a curse to her. Those words teased her with the mysteries of _How_ and _Why_. She cursed Enjolras, cursed him for loving her and leaving her. Anne-Laure cursed herself, cursed herself for loving him and letting him go.

Keep the faith? There was no way, but she had to pretend there was one.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

 _(Bread - The Colour of Desire)_

Anne-Laure likes to think her life began with bread.

Without bread, her swift child-fingers would not have attempted to swipe breakfast off the windowsill of _Monsieur le Mayor's_ humble abode. Without bread, she would not have been caught in the act seconds later by an old and amused man with graying hair. Without bread, she would not have known that there were men around who could literally sweep her off her feet with one movement, making Anne-Laure feel like she was flying instead of being arrested. Without bread, she would not have known the kind and loyal nuns who lived with the mayor. Without bread, she would not know the joy of parading around in a dress made by her own two hands. Anne-Laure would not have learned how to sew, she would not have learned the silly melodies and the psalms the nuns liked to sing, she would not have frequented the fabric stalls in the market two towns over every other weekend or whenever the mayor could make time, and she would not have known what it was like to have a father. Every day Anne-Laure thanked the Lord for bread. The mayor always laughed at this (she knows he liked to think that his old life ended with bread).

Anne-Laure likes to pretend she never had parents before she met Valjean and the nuns. Of course, that was far from the truth. Anne-Laure's parents were the sort of people who were good at first, but whom circumstances turned cruel. Once in a while, Anne-Laure would also say a quick prayer to God to thank him for making her an only child. At least no one else had to undergo her parents' particular brand of abuse.

Days of sword-like words and artfully-made cuts were not what Anne-Laure considered life. Life is waking up to the smell of freshly-baked bread, life is listening to the sound of lace rubbing against silk, life is Monsieur le Mayor teaching her how to be good like him ─ no, life would never be her parents.

Then came the dishonest prostitute from the docks. At first, Anne-Laure hated Fantine. She hated the woman for spitting on the mayor and she hated her because she was a painful reminder of a time before Monsieur le Mayor. But when Sister Simplice put Anne-Laure in charge of reading to Fantine every night, all the hatred melted away. Anne-Laure considered herself truly blessed to have had the honor know a woman with a fiercely loyal heart and an unwavering spirit. Fantine easily molded into the mother-role the nuns never quite fit. Cosette, a young girl neither Fantine nor Anne-Laure had never properly met, already seemed like a sister to Anne-Laure. Fantine had a way with speaking about her dreams – these dreams that Anne-Laure knew deep down would never come true for the woman. Fantine was too sick, the mayor and the sisters merely refused to see it.

After the whole Champmathieu affair, Anne-Laure could tell the sisters were worried. Sister Simplice prayed in the mayor's room when she was finished fussing over the weakening Fantine, and she even used her special candles. Sister Perpetue rearranged the cutlery multiple times and often hissed at Anne-Laure to be quiet even if the girl of fourteen years had not uttered a word. But Anne-Laure was never worried, she held the mayor on a pedestal the moment he took her in as his messenger girl (now she knows it was his way of giving her dignity, he would never make a child do labor for him). The mayor would not leave his workers, his citizens, or his home. Monsieur le Mayor would never leave Anne-Laure Gardet behind.

Except he did.

And oh, did she do her best to chase after him. Anne-Laure did not know the first thing about the galleys, but she did know that she had to get to Paris ( _'after all, all roads lead to Paris, do they not?'_ ). The sisters tried to rein her in, but Anne-Laure would never subject herself to the stifling life of a nun. She was not some homely girl to be transferred from convent to convent. Even at a young age she knew it, Anne-Laure's light – almost white – blonde hair often seemed to make a halo around her head, making her look like an angel (it made up for her mediocre brown eyes). This made her attractive to everyone, and she usually used this to her advantage. There were just some things former criminals could never let go of.

When she did arrive in Paris, Anne-Laure quickly learned that the grand city would never harbor a place that sent a punch to her gut by merely uttering its name. Everything about Paris was beautiful to Anne-Laure, from its delectable pastries to the different people. You never saw the same person twice in Paris, Anne-Laure was sure. But it was the dresses and the fashion that broke the deal for her. Sure, Monsieur le Mayor (now Jean Valjean) was not in Paris as far as she knew, but the latest dress styles and silly trends the French came up with lined the clothing shops of the city. It would physically pain Anne-Laure to leave now. She knew her 60,000 francs would not last forever, especially in such a high-standard city like Paris. Returning back to a suppressing life with the sisters was no longer an option, not when Anne-Laure had seen everything the city of Paris had to offer. She needed to think of a solution – one that would provide for her and one that would, perhaps in the long run, eventually lead her back to Monsieur le Mayor. And how would she do this? Anne-Laure used her two main talents: deceit and dressmaking.

The girl lied about her age and used her odd charms to find a rich sponsor she could present her dresses to. To these bourgeois, she was 20 year-old Antoinette Gardet, an apprentice of the mysterious Monsieur M who is the finest tailor known in the Swiss countryside, mind you. Even at this age, Anne-Laure's talent with dressmaking surpassed the masses. The sponsors who eventually pledged to Anne-Laure paid no mind to the fact that she was almost tiptoeing in the high heels she wore (two sizes too big for her feet).

It took nearly all of Anne-Laure's accumulated money to open up her small, stuffy dress shop in the lesser-known boulevards of Paris. For the first weeks, none of her dresses sold. No one even looked twice at her shop. It took months of stealing bread from various bakeries every morning for breakfast before she could hire a shopkeeper. Her patron was beginning to lose faith in her until the working class ladies of Paris took notice of some of the simpler designs Anne-Laure offered at low prices. Soon these pieces were flying off the racks and Anne-Laure took in two new trainees (both 17 year-old girls who thought Anne-Laure was a rather short 21 year-old). Soon, she was able to move into the more prominent lanes of Paris and even rented an apartment above her shop. Days were made up of sewing, embroidering, beading, and eating bread. For a long time, Anne-Laure really knew nothing else. Soon enough, all her toil paid off. Anne-Laure had established herself as a talented junior dressmaker under the tutoring of an always absent master tailor who made frequent trips outside of France. _'He's wanted everywhere, you can't expect him to waste any time in a such a small shop.'_ A small shop that catered to rich bourgeois ladies in the front door and also had a bigger backroom open to the working class from the side street. Eventually, Anne-Laure learned how to sew suit pieces for men and the _Monsieur M's_ easily became a must-go for any individual seeking clothing in Paris. There was something for everyone, even for those who usually ordered custom-made gowns and suits. When she had hired enough full-time workers, Anne-Laure began taking in custom orders as well. This went on for the next half decade of her life. Her youthful face left her co-workers and others wondering about her true age (at this point in the story, she just happens to be a rather devious 19 year-old).

It was a good day when Anne-Laure first met him. She had the fluffiest bread she had ever tasted from the newly-opened café near the law school, and there were no pending custom orders she had to work on today. Anne-Laure could lounge around her shop and bask in the praise her customers showered her with every time they found the perfect dress.

He entered with his mother (the air that drifted in with them smelled faintly of the fluffy bread as well). He looked sullen and at first, Anne-Laure paid him no mind other than to note how beautiful he was for a boy. His mother was like all other bourgeois ladies who frequented her shop, Anne-Laure was sure she had seen this woman at least twice before.

"Aah, at last! Am I finally meeting the Mademoiselle Gardet?" The woman fluttered to her quickly and gave Anne-Laure no time to reply. "Your shopkeeper, Madame Deslys – such a pinched and strict lady – often mentioned you, singing only praise of course, and I've always wanted to meet the woman who could think up such fine creations! It's always quite a journey for me to visit Paris, but your shop is one of my top two destinations, the other of course being Donatien's apartment. But my dear son is finally visiting his home for the weekend, so we're throwing a little party. But oh, my dear, you must loan your sewing girls and embroiderers to me the next time when we host a proper ball!"

This time, it was the woman's son that gave Anne-Laure no time to respond. "Mother," his tone was frustrated and severe. "You must not offend the lady in such a way. I apologize, Mademoiselle, we both know you make personal painstaking efforts to produce this fine selection." His eyes (bright and blue like bluebells shining with morning dew) finally met Anne-Laure's (dull like burnt bread) towards the end of his statement. His eyebrows raised a fraction and for the first time, Anne-Laure felt flustered with worry over what a boy must think of her.

' _But oh, he was such a beautiful boy.'_

Their stare was not broken, even when his mother continued on as if he never interrupted. "You must assist us, mademoiselle! My dear Donatien is in dire need of a new blazer to complement the suit his father brought him from England. It was a shame the blazer in that set did nothing to complement his complexion. I'm envisioning something blue, perhaps to match his eyes or what of a deep green─"

"Red." It was first word Anne-Laure uttered the entire ordeal. She (hesitantly) dragged her eyes away from the beautiful boy so she could face his mother (who admittedly was also very beautiful).

It clicked perfectly in her mind – the idea of rioting red going with his bluebell eyes and his golden curls. He would be a vision in that color, it was like Anne-Laure was imagining him as she worked on the blazer she pulled out from the back of the racks. It was certainly one of her favorite pieces. She remembered envisioning a suave prince from fairytales wearing this blazer as he dueled with lesser men, she envisioned a dashing lawyer wearing this blazer and a victorious grin, and she was sure she could envision a beautiful boy with perfect features wearing this blazer. She made this for him, even if she didn't know it yet.

The piece was pricey enough because of the golden embellishment for the woman to gush over it. The boy donned it on without a fuss and it took everything in Anne-Laure not to swoon when he eyed her in the full-length mirror as his mother continued to coo.

"Oh, this must be the one, Donatien!" The woman gushed.

Anne-Laure's lips turned into a curve that was almost a smirk as she turned as she put her odd charm to work. " _Oui_ , Madame, it is a one of a kind piece. There is no other like it. It suits your son perfectly."

"We'll take it!"

The next day, Anne-Laure was hard at work in a little sewing closet built so that it was in between the backroom and the front of the shop. Madame Deslys took charge over the flurry of young women who entered the front room of the shop half an hour ago and had yet to make a purchase. Anne-Laure was happy to sit this one out, which made the grimace on her face understandable when her shopkeeper informed her that a customer wanted to see her personally.

A hush had fallen over the shop moments ago, but Anne-Laure only took note of it now. _'What ever happened to the gushing girls? Did Madame Deslys finally drive them away with her stink-stare?'_

" _Bonjour_ , Mademoiselle Gardet."

'Merde _, it's the beautiful boy! That boy with the bluebell eyes and stares that made her shiver._ _Donatien, that was his name.'_

There he was, standing before Anne-Laure in his bluebell glory, holding a package in one arm and wearing _her_ red blazer. He had a nervous grin on his face that seemed out of place with a boy like him. The gushing girls were now the giggling girls as they helplessly tried to mask their immediate fondness for him.

"Bonjour, Monsieur." Anne-Laure still did not know his last name. "How can I help you today?" Madame Deslys was making quick work of the gushing and giggling girls, subtly leading them away from the potential buyer and her mistress.

"It seems the suit my father purchased for me simply does not do your blazer justice. _Maman_ insists I wear it in this weekend's festivities," At this, his face scrunched up in a (still beautiful) scowl. "Therefore, I simply had to return to make extra purchases if I am to look presentable." It sounded like he was defending his presence here to himself as well.

Anne-Laure merely stood there, still at a loss for words. The nervous grin returned to the beautiful boy's face once more and he fiddled with the package in his arms.

Quieter this time, he spoke again. "Of course, I understand that it must be break time soon. I took it upon myself to bring bread along. It's from a little café called _The Musain_ \- close to where I study – the only thing good there is this bread and…" he trailed off and Anne-Laure finally began racking her brain to think of something to say.

"Oh, I do love bread."

'Merde! _I love bread? Really?!'_

"Well, I very much like the blazer I purchased from you yesterday."

In his own mind, Donatien Enjolras was kicking himself too.

* * *

 _A/N: This one was a rather experimental piece – one that I would love to get feedback on! The story is based on elements from both the book and the musical. It would be so very kind of you if you would express any interest in reading the next chapters._


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

 _(In Which There is a Lot of Grinning)_

 _A/N: Thank you for the follows and reviews! I hope the wait for this chapter wasn't too long. I just wanted to take this opportunity to explain that I took certain liberties with the timeline of the story in order to set-up properly for what I have planned for the future chapters. The characters' dialogue here is still rather youthful, naïve, and trivial. Who knows, maybe you'll miss their shallow way of speaking in the next chapters (haha)._

 _Again, thank you for your continued support! Enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

"I really must get to class, Antoinette." Enjolras insisted, warily eyeing the pins the woman was continuously slipping into the fabric draped across his body. Anne-Laure swatted his hand away when he tried to gesture widely with his arms and reminded him to keep still.

"I know for a fact, _Monsieur_ , that your classes don't begin for another two hours." Finally, Anne-Laure looked up at him and Enjolras audibly groaned at the look on her face. In his mind, the girl always looked like an angel, but whenever she pulled one of her pouty looks, Enjolras simply wanted to ravish her. He needed to make extra efforts to keep himself from pulling her flush against him. First and foremost, it was because it was entirely improper since their relationship was far from established. Secondly, she would probably smack him in the face and throw him out of her shop. Anne-Laure (or as Enjolras and most of Paris knew her – Antoinette Gardet) was different from most girls. She could act as ladylike and demure as a woman in her stature was expected to be, but she had her subtle spark within her that drew Enjolras closer every time. No matter the fronts she put up, Enjolras was also convinced that she was a self-made woman. _Monsieur M_ probably didn't exist at all.

With her pouty lips still on her face, Anne-Laure continued "You know no one else is in to help me out today, Enjolras. Madame Deslys needed the day off to care for her injured mother, and the sisters only come in during the weekends now. Who else could I have asked to model this dress in the making for me? I need to work on an idea right away before I lose it, you also know that. You wouldn't be a very good friend if you didn't help me in this troubling time, _non_?"

At that, Enjolras bent down to get closer to her, and Anne-Laure looked up at him in surprise.

"You know I don't want to merely be a good friend of yours," Enjolras whispered, his face so close to Anne-Laure's. She wondered if he could hear her heart beating, since he was so very near now. Anne-Laure felt like she would burst if she uttered a single word.

"Antoinette…"

That woke her up.

Enjolras wasn't in love with _Anne-Laure_ , he was in love with a woman she conjured up out of a dire situation. The pain she felt because of that was immense, and it hurt a thousand times over when she reminded herself that only she could remedy the situation. She couldn't do it to him – make Enjolras think that he was in love with a girl who didn't even exist. Oh, he had his idealistic dreams of a brighter future with her by his side. Could a man who stood so strongly on the side of justice and equality love a woman who was a liar? Anne-Laure didn't think so. She could always tell him who she really was, she certainly trusted him enough to do that. But Anne-Laure wouldn't be able to bear losing him over this secret. People like him frolicked with the rich and avoided the poor. It was a fact of life, even if Enjolras despised it. A woman like Anne-Laure – abandoned, orphaned, and improper – would never be qualified to be friends with someone like him. No matter how many dresses she sewed or how many people she fooled, Anne-Laure was still part of the masses and not the bourgeoisie. Anne-Laure could live with never loving him properly, but she would not lose him as a dear friend.

"You're ruining the pins!" Anne-Laure piped up, motioning wildly with her hands so he would stand straight again. "You're lucky that we don't need to start over." Enjolras didn't even bother to hide his groan. She saw a brief flash of pain in his eyes, but there was nothing else to do but ignore it.

An hour later, the two were back to trading jokes and teasing each other lightly when the door chimed open. Anne-Laure and Enjolras were working in the center of the front shop, so they both immediately saw the newcomer.

"Monsieur Marius!" Anne-Laure exclaimed at the same time Enjolras scowled out " _Pontmercy_."

Anne-Laure swatted the blonde man's arm again and made quick work of the fabric that still covered him. In a few seconds, she had her work folded over one arm and Enjolras finally freed. She turned back to face Marius.

"Good afternoon! What can I do for you today, Monsieur?"

"A pleasant afternoon, Mademoiselle. Please, you must call me Marius." the poor freckled-face student replied, sending her a toothy grin and Enjolras a wary glance. He had always been a bit afraid of the man in red, even when they got over their differences in political views. There was an innate power in Enjolras that made him so intimidating and _up there_. It didn't help that whenever they were both around Mademoiselle Gardet, Enjolras was always skeptical. Of course, Marius thought he understood perfectly. Enjolras must have heard from Courfeyrac how dreadful Marius was around women who weren't his landlady or his aunt. Perhaps Enjolras suspected Marius' intentions towards the Mademoiselle were more than friendly. It was no secret that the Apollo of the _Les Amis_ was enamored with the dressmaker. Even someone as oblivious as Marius could see it.

"Only if you call me Anne." Anne-Laure answered with a sly smile, offering a nickname suitable for both her real name and her fake one. Marius decided not to comment further, sending a wary glance at Enjolras who was already facing him with a steady, stoic and completely frightening disposition.

"Actually, I have come in to ask a favor." Marius began nervously, the presence of Enjolras and the nature of his request creating the beginnings of a sweat along his brow despite the cool air outside.

"Well, that will definitely depend on what it is, but I'm sure I'll be able to help when it comes down to it. What is it?" Anne-Laure smiled brightly at Marius. She and Marius were actually the same age, both at 19 years old. The two men in the room were under the notion that she was closer to Enjolras' 23 years of age. She held Marius in great respect. She found his strength admirable. One wouldn't meet many bourgeoisie boys who would willingly give up their fortune to honor a memory. Anne-Laure likes to think she did the same when she left the town of Monsieur le Mayor behind to search for her the only father-figure she's ever known here in Paris.

"Er, it's actually a rather…private matter." Marius stuttered out, his eyes flickering quickly between Anne-Laure, Enjolras and anything else he could stare at. Anne-Laure immediately scrunched up her eyebrows and Enjolras didn't even bother to hide his scowl.

"I'm sorry – I don't think I quite understand." Anne-Laure chuckled uncertainly. She took note of the two men's reaction and grew more confused by the second.

"Well, uh, it's to say that…er, what I have to ask of you, I would rather keep between the two of us. Yes, that's what I mean. If it's quite alright with you, of course, Made-I mean, er, Anne. I hope that's alright with you, Anne." Marius finished his ramble, seemingly satisfied as he nodded to himself. After he saw the look on Enjolras' face, though, he involuntarily took a step back.

"Oh, well of course. I'd love to hear you out." Anne-Laure decided, sending Enjolras a pointed look.

"I'm sorry if I find it rather suspicious that you'd like a private moment alone with Antoinette." Enjolras raised a brow and Marius had to fight off the shudder that threatened to shake him.

"Please, Enjolras," Anne-Laure rolled her eyes, leaving no time for Marius to answer. "You need to get going if you don't want to be late for class. I recall you were whining about that so vehemently earlier?" She raised her own brow at him, and Enjolras clenched his jaw in frustration.

"It's only Marius. We'll be in the front shop the entire time, the whole of Paris will be able to see us through the window." Anne-Laure tried her best to ease his worries. "You'll see Marius later anyway, right? I hear you and the rest of the boys will be meeting in the Musain. So if he commits any untoward actions, you'll surely have the chance to rough him up. You might even have a whole army behind you as well." It was no secret that the _Les Amis_ adored Anne-Laure as well. Truly, Marius would be asking for it if he would do any wrong to the dressmaker.

Enjolras stood his ground and Anne-Laure rolled her eyes again.

"Come on, Enjolras. _Please_. There's nothing to worry about, Donatien."

It was his name on her lips that made him undone. Heaving a heavy sigh, Enjolras stalked to the corner of the room where he deposited his bag and made his way for the door without another word. He did send Marius another threatening glare before stepping out the door.

When he was out of sight, Anne-Laure turned to the baron. "Well, I hope whatever you need from me is truly worth going through all of _that_."

"Oh, certainly," Marius nodded without skipping a beat. "I need to borrow a fashionable set of clothes. Something appropriate for taking a turn around the park."

"Is that so?" Anne-Laure raised her eyebrows, not quite expecting that. "Well, that should be easy enough, honestly. May I ask why, though?"

At this, a slight flush spread across Marius' face. "Well, there's this girl…"

Immediately, Anne-Laure let out a tinkering laugh. "Of course, of course. Typical, hopeless romantic Marius Pontmercy. What else could I expect?" Marius tried to look offended at the statement, but a smile was creeping up on his face. He watched on fondly as Anne-Laure practically flew around the shop, searching through racks of jackets and suits made for strolling.

"Are you still in mourning? Because I do think you'll look rather dashing in navy blue." Anne-Laure muttered, pulling out a jacket of that hue and thrusting it on Marius without letting him have a single word in. "You'll need some green accents as well, and then a classic pair of black pants should do the trick. You're going to be so tastefully dressed that they would have to ignore those horrid shoes."

"How dare you!" Marius said in a joking manner, a grin still plastered on his face. Anne-Laure simply laughed at him before pushing the student into the backroom, insisting that he get changed.

"Do they fit well?" she called as she waited for him to finish getting dressed.

"Yes, of course. I can't even begin to thank you, Made─ _Anne_."

When Marius stepped out, Anne-Laure couldn't hold back her triumphant grin. Marius looked every bit the wealthy and prominent bourgeoisie man he was born to be, even if he despised that life. The smile on the man's face brightened up his whole look even more so, and Anne-Laure couldn't imagine any girl would be able to resist him. She couldn't think of any man who looked more attractive than Marius Pontmercy at this moment (well, there was always a certain blonde law student…).

"You look perfect. There's no way this mystery girl of yours could ever resist you." Anne-Laure proclaimed, making Marius' grin grow even wider if that was possible.

"I dearly hope you are right." Marius murmured, needlessly adjusting his cravat as he faced a mirror.

"Stop fussing," Anne-Laure ordered. "Everything looks great. You're more than impressive as the normal Marius Pontmercy, my clothes just emphasized your best parts."

"Thank you, Anne." Marius turned to her and gave her a sincere smile and Anne-Laure returned it with one of her own. It was no secret that the students of the _Les Amis_ were a little less than happy with Marius most of the time, but Anne-Laure couldn't help but have a certain fondness for him. There was just something so good about the way he persevered and kept hoping, even in the face of troubles. Yes, Marius was a rather cowardly man with questionable loyalties, but above all that he was a hopeful man. To Anne-Laure, that counted for something.

Marius cleared his throat. "Now, I might ask another favor of you."

Anne-Laure raised a brow and narrowed her eyes at the student. "You're really pushing your luck today huh, Marius? Alright then, what else can I do for you?"

"Would it be too undesirable for you to take a stroll with me around the Luxembourg Gardens?"

"You want me to see the girl, then." Anne-Laure concluded and Marius answered with a silent nod.

"What if my presence sends her the wrong idea?"

"Well, maybe you might walk a few steps in front of me and─"

" _Mon Dieu_ , Marius, I'm not walking around unescorted!"

"Why don't we ask one of the _Les Amis_ then? Courfeyrac might be free around this time. There's also Joly, Feuilly, Combeferre…I'm sure even Enjolras would be happy to have a pretty girl like you on his arm."

Anne-Laure crossed her arms against her chest. "Alright, so why don't you ask them?"

Marius sent her his own version of a pouty look. His face formed into a look that could only be described as needy and smoldering. "They would probably say no, especially if it's coming from me. But if you asked? They would agree before you could even finish stating your request." Anne-Laure gave him a _look_ but Marius feigned ignorance, turning away with a shrug.

"Fine, let's say I do agree to ask one of our friends to take a turn with me around the gardens. And let's say you just happen to be there, preparing to take a stroll as well. Great, it's all good. But what I don't understand, and perhaps I should have asked this from the start, is why it's so important to you that I see this girl." Anne-Laure finished by raising one of her brows.

Marius took a deep breath before speaking. "I need to know if she cares for me the way I care for her. We've never spoken to each other, but when our eyes meet…it's like nothing I've ever felt before. I don't know what I would do if I learned she didn't feel the same way. Well, I would do everything I can to change her mind, I suppose. And yet, no matter how profound this connection of ours seems to be, I still can't make heads or tails of what she might feel. You're the only woman I can ask this of, Anne. I need you to do this for me."

Anne-Laure could hardly deny him after a speech like that.

"Fine…I'll try to find someone after I close up the shop later. Maybe I'll stop by the café before your meeting. Shall we make a visit to the gardens tomorrow?"

Marius brightened up immediately when he realized Anne-Laure just agreed. "Yes! That sounds fantastic! Thank you, Anne-Laure! You don't know how much this means to me!" In a burst of excitement, he took her hands and spun her around the room like she was some two-penny girl his parents introduced him to at a ball. Still, Anne-Laure laughed and savored the rare feeling.

"Any other favors you need?" Anne-Laure asked when the spinning was over. "Now's the time to ask while I'm still feeling generous."

" _Non_ , you've given me more than I could ask for." Anne-Laure laughed at that since she gave him exactly what he asked for. "I shall see you at the gardens tomorrow at around four in the afternoon, is that alright with you?"

" _Oui_ , there should be no problem with that. I'll see you tomorrow, Marius." Anne-Laure answered as she walked with him to the front door.

"I can come back after my class to escort you to the Musain later if you want me to." he offered, but Anne-Laure waved him off.

"That's hardly necessary, Marius. I've seen enough of your face already today." Marius took this as his cue to leave and left with a wave of goodbye.

* * *

Anne-Laure stood unaccompanied at the foot of the university's steps, rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet, while she kept a hand in her dress's inner pocket to constantly assure her that her money and keys to the store remained with her. The gamines of Paris were a sneaky bunch, even quicker and stealthier than Anne-Laure was when she had her sights on a freshly baked batch of pastries.

Here she waited for one of the _Les Amis_ to come out from their class. Anne-Laure figured she could just ask whoever came out first, seeing as the person she brought wasn't exactly vital for Marius' needs. She simply needed to bring _someone_ in order to ease his mind. Anne-Laure could even ask Madame Deslys, if she could ever find a way to ask the woman to close up the shop early to take a walk with her (which was nearly impossible since the woman seemed to act as if she ran the whole place on her own). Asking one of the _Les Amis_ was simpler and quicker, but Anne-Laure didn't want to cause affair at the café. There were tons of people in the university at every second, and Anne-Laure and whoever she talked to would be able to converse unnoticed. This way would save both her and Marius a lot of embarrassment.

The first familiar face to amble his way down the steps was Grantaire who seemed tipsy even though he had just come from class (well, Anne-Laure assumed he did).

"Grantaire!" Anne-Laure called, hurrying up the steps to meet him half-way. At first, the drunkard narrowed his eyes at her, as if thinking hard about who she could be. When she came closer, his eyes returned to normal and his face remained blank. It wasn't a complete truth to say that the _Les Amis_ adored her. Grantaire always treated her with a cold indifference, but was smart enough to never do anything harsher. Anne-Laure never understood what she did to make Grantaire dislike her so, but she never felt the need to push it out of him. If he didn't like her for any real reason then there was nothing she could do. It wasn't as if he was ruining her life or anything. There was no problem with leaving him be, usually.

For a moment, Anne-Laure had second thoughts about speaking to Grantaire but she was already standing in front of the man. He was beginning to tap his foot in impatience, waiting for her to speak up.

"I'm glad I caught you, Monsieur," Anne-Laure began, realizing that the man in front of her never really gave her explicit permission to call him by only his last name. "There is something I need your help with."

He looked at her with an expression that conveyed just how incredulous he was that she was even speaking to him. When he didn't say another word, Anne-Laure continued.

"It's a rather…long story. I was wondering if you might take a stroll with me tomorrow at the Luxembourg Gardens. Perhaps at around four in the afternoon if your schedule permits you?" Anne-Laure asked, her anxiousness rising with every word she spoke. She realized just how comical and unbelievable this situation was. She was a woman asking a man out on what the rest of Paris would certainly consider as a date. Usually, Anne-Laure had no qualms about going against the current, but Grantaire wasn't the friendliest face around. He continued to look at her expressionlessly, but his tense body language spoke volumes. He was far from happy with her.

"I have no time for silly strolls with you, _Mademoiselle Gardet_." he spat out, and turned away from her without another word. Anne-Laure could only stare at his retreating form. She wondered why she still didn't feel any anger towards him. What the man had done was completely rude, but it didn't hit her like it should have. In a way, it felt right for him to refuse her without waiting for an explanation.

"Antoinette, you're here." a familiar voice piped up from her side. Anne-Laure didn't need to look to know that Enjolras had joined her in watching Grantaire's swift exit.

"Good afternoon, Enjolras," Anne-Laure muttered, her voice coming out a little shakily.

"Are you quite alright? What did that drunkard say to you?" Enjolras demanded, alternating his glances between her and the direction where Grantaire walked off to.

"Not much, Monsieur." Anne-Laure admitted. "I asked if he might help me with something, but he said he was too busy. Perhaps he has something important to do for that meeting of yours tonight."

"Impossible," Enjolras shook his head immediately. In one smooth motion, he looped his arm with hers and began leading Anne-Laure down the steps of the university. "Grantaire's usually bloody useless at everything. And besides, no one but Combeferre and I know what's in store for tonight's meeting." Anne-Laure was tempted to ask, but now was not the right time and she knew Enjolras wouldn't tell her anything. It was one of the topics he kept tight-lipped about, the only other topic of that nature being his family.

"What did you need help with, Antoinette? Perhaps I could be of service?" Enjolras asked, stopping them when they reached the end of the street. Anne-Laure blushed instantly, the idea of asking him to take a walk with her flooding her mind with visions of laughing with him and huddling close to him as if they were a couple. It was something she wished she could have.

"Well…it's rather silly now that I think about it," Anne-Laure muttered, using the drunkard's words.

"Nonsense, you're anything but silly." Enjolras countered easily. He still looked her in the eye even though she constantly broke the stare by turning away every few seconds.

Anne-Laure took a deep breath and shut her brown eyes before speaking. Momentarily, Enjolras furrowed his brows and wondered what could possibly have gotten the woman so worked up.

"I…I would like to take a walk in the Luxembourg Gardens tomorrow. I was hoping to find someone who could escort me." Anne-Laure said, all the while wishing to smack herself on the head then proceed to whacking Marius' as well.

Enjolras blinked at her for a moment.

"And you asked Grantraire to help you with that?"

Anne-Laure huffed and got defensive. "Well, I resolved to asking whichever familiar face came out first. I was lucky it wasn't one of those boys who like to visit my shop to talk to me and not buy anything. Right, please forget I said anything. I think I can ask Courfeyrac tonight and I'm certain he would say yes. Please just─"

"I'll go with you." Enjolras interrupted, stopping her wordy tirade by placing a hand on her shoulder. "You didn't even let me answer you, Mademoiselle. I have no classes tomorrow, so I will be free the whole day. We can take a walk anytime you'd like."

Anne-Laure stared at him for a moment.

"Okay."

Enjolras had to fight a grin from creeping up his face. Anne-Laure wondered just what she had gotten herself into.


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

 _(Strolling and Escaping)_

 _A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I was in the province all week last week, and this chapter took some time writing up (the only part of this story written in advance is the ending whoops sorry). There's a lot that goes on here, so I hope that makes up for the wait. I realized that my characterization of Enjolras makes him out to be really flirty and charismatic, and I suppose this might bother some of you. Well, I've always believed Enjolras is meant to be an incredibly charismatic man (like Rick Riordan charm-speak level charismatic) and he'll really only be intentionally flirty around Anne-Laure. Again, I'd like to remind everyone that I'm taking lots and lots of liberties with the timeline here. However, feel free to let me know if there's something about the order of events troubling you!_

 _Thank you for the reviews in the previous chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one._

* * *

Standing in front of her mirror in her whole strolling garb (slim peach gown with a short-sleeved baby blue coat of the same length, white-blonde hair pulled back in a tight plait and a plain white lace bonnet atop her head) Anne-Laure wondered what a man like Donatien Enjolras could ever see in her.

She usually wore the same thing whenever she worked in the shop as Antoinette Gardet: a deep blue frock of the latest and trendiest cut and the finest silk and lace gloves. The uniform getup always made her look classy and elegant, more of a woman than a girl. Now, in a peach dress she made herself, Anne-Laure looked her real age. She wondered if Enjolras would like it. Now that she thought about it, he had never really seen her in anything other than her self-imposed uniform and the occasional full coat.

' _Would he like what he sees? Would he be interested in the other clothes I own?'_ Anne-Laure shook her head and berated herself for getting worked up over such a trivial thing. Enjolras never failed to praise her for her fine work on the dresses she sold, why should he think any differently if she was the one wearing them? Besides, she liked this set. Anne-Laure always kept the dresses she especially liked for herself, and she never replicated them to sell in the shops. This peach dress was simple, but it was one of a kind.

Anne-Laure shoved a piece of bread into her mouth and wondered if Enjolras would arrive early.

As if God Himself was answering her unspoken prayers, she heard the door chime open and Madame Deslys' immediate greeting.

"Welcome, Monsieur Enjolras. Do come in. Are you here to meet with Mademoiselle Gardet?"

Even on the second floor, it was as if Anne-Laure could _feel_ him grinning. "Good afternoon, Madame Deslys. Is that a trick question, Madame? Do I really come here for anything else?"

"Well, Monsieur, you have been known to buy six suit sets in one go." Anne-Laure heard the woman answer coyly and Anne-Laure had to restrain herself from gagging. She wondered how good Enjolras must look today if he could charm even the strict and straight Madame Deslys into subtly flirting with him.

(Besides, Enjolras only bought that much that time because he knew she was feeling down over a customer's less than kind comments during his visit to her store).

"Not today, Madame." Enjolras chuckled. "Do you think the mademoiselle knows I am here? Do you need to go up to call her?"

"Oh, of course!" Madame Deslys sounded flustered, and this time Anne-Laure had to hold back a laugh. She heard the woman step onto the landing on the staircase connecting the store to Anne-Laure's flat. "This will just take a moment."

"Please let her know she can take her time. I know I'm rather early."

Madame Deslys was making her way up the stairs and Anne-Laure shot for her small dining table by the window, pretending to sip tea like she hadn't been eavesdropping the entire time. She was the perfect actress, pretending to pore over design sketches when Madame Deslys swung the door open, not even bothering to knock.

"Mademoiselle, Monsieur Enjolras is downstairs for you."

"Oh, he's rather early isn't he?" Anne-Laure replied, knowing her voice easily floated down to the first floor. "Please let him know I'll just be a moment. I just need to get my purse ready."

"As you wish, Mademoiselle." Madame Deslys bowed respectfully before exiting her flat.

Anne-Laure returned to her full-length mirror once she clutched her purse in between her fingers. _'I look alright,'_ Anne-Laure guessed in her mind. _'A little pale, maybe, but color will come into my cheeks once I get some fresh air.'_ She couldn't remember the last time she had ever fussed over her appearances like this. Was it back when she was pretending to look older as she pitched her ideas to possible patrons for a dress shop? Back then all she had were the grimy mirrors of cafés in the bathrooms frequented by the less than benevolent people of Paris. At the time, she probably looked just as dangerous. She liked to think she was some kind of femme fatale, gathering information necessary to bring down a criminal gang. It helped her ignore the dirt-faced girls who looked like they just rolled out of bed and the elderly women asleep on the floors beneath the sink. Now Anne-Laure had a closet filled with dresses of her own creation and she didn't need to share a mirror with anyone. _'And that's why I should stop worrying.'_ Anne-Laure concluded. _'I worked hard to get here. I worked hard to look beautiful. I'm certain Enjolras will be able to see it.'_

Anne-Laure took a deep breath and made her way to her store downstairs.

Enjolras immediately straightened from his post leaning against the wall when he caught sight of her, and the both of them eyed each other for a moment. He was wearing the blazer she gave him, and that caused Anne-Laure to blush a little bit. True, she probably could never love him properly but that didn't mean he couldn't make her heart flutter. She could tell he gave a little bit more effort today. Enjolras was a handsome man, probably the most good-looking man in the whole of France – and when he parted his curly golden locks like so and put on a good walking suit, he was to die for.

Anne-Laure's blush deepened when she noticed how he eyed her the same way. Her thoughts went wild, wondering what could possibly be going on in that head of his as he looked at her.

"Good afternoon, mademoiselle." Enjolras said a little stiffly. "Are you ready for our walk?"

" _Oui_ , monsieur." Why did everything suddenly sound so awkward between them? "Thank you for coming on time."

He smiled at her, and Anne-Laure felt like she could fall over at any moment.

"Shall we?" Enjolras held out his arm, and Anne-Laure took a few steps forward to loop her arm around his.

"We'll be leaving now, Madame Deslys. Please take care of the shop." said Anne-Laure and the other lady nodded her assent.

It was a different feeling, walking out with Enjolras like this. She had done it several times before. They would go to the Musain whenever she had a sudden craving for bread, they would visit the university on a slow day in the shop, and they would go out into the streets whenever the sky looked perfect and Anne-Laure declared it a day for strolling. In each of those times, their walks together were out of the blue, a sudden tingling of longing from each one of them. To have their time together pre-mediated like this added in an element they've never had before. Anne-Laure couldn't even name it.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Antoinette," Enjolras began after clearing his throat. Anne-Laure peered at him and quickly decided that despite the spectacular sights all around her, nothing would ever compare to this view right here.

"Why the Luxembourg Gardens? It all seems very sudden. Please – do not misunderstand – I am overjoyed that I get to spend time with you today, but you have made me rather curious."

"Why, Monsieur," Anne-Laure halted, causing Enjolras to stop in mid-stride. She put on a fake affronted look. "The first thing you must say to a lady when you bring her out is how beautiful she looks. You're making me think I spent so much time preparing for nothing." It was a cheap trick, Anne-Laure knew it. She hoped the change of topic would steer him away from his curiosities. Anne-Laure didn't want to feed him any more lies than necessary.

Noting the way Anne-Laure's lips quivered as she tried to hold in a laugh, Enjolras answered with a quirk on one side of his lips. "My apologies, mademoiselle. You look stunning today, as always. Peach is a very fine color on you. Why, even the sun envies you and you can see it blazing brighter today in a futile effort to outshine you. I must be the luckiest man in all of France today to have you on my arm."

Anne-Laure quickly turned away from him to hide the blush that was surely growing on her face, but she still tightened her hold on Enjolras' arm. "I didn't realize I was walking with Jehan today. Did Monsieur Enjolras think that it was alright to miss our date if he sent a poet as a replacement?"

"Now that I know of your affinity for the written word, I'll be sure to keep the poet far away from you." Enjolras teased, but Anne-Laure noted a flash of something else in his eye. She steeled herself not to dwell on it. It would do her no good, anyhow.

"You are a most cruel man. I should have just taken Grantaire with me today."

"But, Mademoiselle, I imagine you would be supporting his entire weight and dragging his body the whole way. That man does not hold his drink well."

"At least he won't play around with me."

"Forgive me, Antoinette. Unfortunately, that's just what romance is all about."

"Then cease romancing me right now, Sir," Anne-Laure covered up her racing heart with a fake laugh. "Why don't we talk about something else? How did your meeting last night go?"

Enjolras quieted down for a moment, and Anne-Laure immediately regretted pushing him away again after another one of his advances. His actions were far from unwelcome, but Anne-Laure knew that she could never reciprocate without hurting him. The last thing she ever wanted to do was to hurt him.

But her worries were put to rest when he replied. "Tell me, Antoinette, do you love our country?"

His voice was so serious, Anne-Laure could almost say she was frightened by the sudden change. She didn't know what to think of the look on his face – so hard and so cold. Amidst that, a secret fire was blazing in his eyes. She had known those eyes for so long already, and that spark within him was new. This was a side of Enjolras she had never seen before.

"Of course," she huffed, giving off an air that she was somewhat offended. She had to mask the way she stared at him for almost a minute as he awaited her response. "France is the land of the romantics and the land of the brave. France is the forerunner in fashion; everyone turns to France first to see what the next trend is. The people here are good and the bread they make is even better."

At that last statement, Enjolras shook his head (shaking away the steely and distanced look Anne-Laure immediately hated) and grinned at her. "It's always about the bread for you, isn't it?"

This time, Anne-Laure's scoff wasn't faked. "Of course. I've risked my life for bread, monsieur. I would _die_ for bread."

Enjolras chuckled. "I don't doubt it, mademoiselle."

"Why, if dressmaking didn't make me so much money, I imagine I would open up my own bakery. That way, I would have the freshest bread on my plate every morning. Could you imagine that? The first batch of bread all to myself?"

" _Oui_ , mademoiselle. I would be there every day to sample the delicious bread."

"Don't be mistaken, Enjolras. You can't even dream of touching the first batch. It's all mine."

Enjolras laughed again. "I know better than to get in between you and the love of your life." More than anything, the man wished he was made of bread right now. When he looked up, he noted the sudden increase of greenery around them. The walk from the shop to the gardens was a good ten minutes at least. How had time passed so quickly?

"We have arrived, mademoiselle." Enjolras announced, and he watched as Anne-Laure took in her surroundings with a surprised look as well.

"I didn't even notice," Anne-Laure laughed to herself and looked around again. _'Marius should arrive before Enjolras even thinks about asking again why we had to go to here today,'_ she thought to herself. The pair began their walk around the gardens, and in between sneakily searching for a suit set she made and trying not to swoon over the man she walked with, Anne-Laure noted how beautiful the place actually was. All sorts of people walked around, plenty of them belonging to the upper class. Enjolras almost seemed to sneer at every person wearing a ridiculous amount of jewelry of expensive clothing.

At the sight of a particular freckled and poor school boy Anne-Laure skidded to a stop, pulling along a surprised Enjolras with her.

Completely throwing out her apparent acting skills out of the window, she exclaimed loudly "Is that Marius Pontmercy I see over there? What a coincidence! He's here too. And oh, he's all alone. Come, Enjolras, we must go over and greet him." She didn't give him time to protest as she practically dragged them towards the schoolboy. Anne-Laure and Enjolras didn't miss the way Marius' eyes brightened up at the sight of them. He looked relieved and entranced, and looked as if he couldn't decide where to gaze. He was alternating looks between the golden pair and watching the gates at the other side of the gardens.

"Good afternoon, Anne. Good afternoon, Enjolras. What a surprise to see the both of you here today." Marius greeted, happily adapting Anne-Laure's impeccable and questionable acting skills.

"Good afternoon, Marius. I see the suit I lent you fits well," Anne-Laure started then turned to Enjolras. "That's why he came into my shop yesterday. He told me he needed a suit for a very important event. Although I'm beginning to wonder what's so important about a lonely walk about the Luxembourg Gardens."

"And I'm beginning to wonder why you had to convince the mademoiselle to kick me out of the shop in order for you to ask for a suit." Enjolras quirked a brow at the younger boy, making Marius shrink back. A beat later, Marius was relieved to see a shadow of a smirk across the red-clad law student's lips. It seemed Enjolras had forgiven him once it was proven that Marius had no ill (or, in other words, romantic) intentions towards Anne-Laure.

"Hush, Enjolras, don't tease him. Unless you're trying to romance him too today?" Anne-Laure smirked then turned to Marius. "Did you know that Monsieur Enjolras here was shamelessly flirting with Madame Deslys this morning? She's a married woman! And I don't think the Monsieur is quite sated yet. Run while you still can, Marius. It's far too late for me." Enjolras didn't miss the hidden meaning in Anne-Laure words and for the first time, Marius saw him smile a genuine grin. It was quite a sight to behold for Marius, especially since last night's meeting was weighing heavily on all of the _Les Amis's_ minds.

"I assure you, Pontmercy, it is not _you_ I'm trying to romance right now." Enjolras shook his head and Marius had to restrain himself from smiling brightly. Watching the pair of them made him all the more excited to see his beloved _Mademoiselle Lanoire_ today.

"Why are you here all alone, Marius? Are you waiting for someone?" Anne-Laure interrupted. Marius understood all too well the message she was trying to convey. _Did his mystery woman arrive yet? Who is she? What is she like?_ Marius was more than prepared to set off into another ramble to pass the time when _they_ finally arrived.

 _Monsieur Leblanc and Mademoiselle Lanoire._

At the back of his mind, Marius realized that he had begun sputtering. Anne-Laure and Enjolras exchanged confused looks and turned to the direction Marius was gesturing wildly at.

For Marius, the sight of the girl he was in love with was truly a blessing. Mademoiselle Lanoire was a true beauty. She had beautiful, thick blonde hair that glowed in the sunlight and a delicate body draped in the finest dresses. Her face was undeniably kind and the tones of her voice drifted and called out to him like a song. He waited impatiently for the moment she would steal a glance at him, the way she did weeks ago when Marius had fallen in love at first sight. He realized that the name Mademoiselle Lanoire could no longer represent her. He had first seen her when she never failed to wear a black, ill-fitting dress each day. Spring had ushered her into a true blossom wherein she wore all the colors of the rainbow, and a ray of light constantly followed her (as constant as the intimidating glare of Monsieur Leblanc that Marius was conveniently oblivious of). Marius was hopelessly hooked into her magic, and he never wanted to escape. Even a single, stolen, and secret glance from her could make him die a happy man.

For Enjolras, the sight of Monsieur Leblanc and Mademoiselle Lanoire was rather unremarkable. He saw an old man with a girl who could be either his daughter or his granddaughter on his arm. They were typical citizens of France, nothing more and nothing less. But he didn't miss the way the old man eyed Marius with hatred. Enjolras had looked at the law student the same way several times before.

Enjolras also didn't miss the way Anne-Laure's hold on him tightened, almost to the point of pain.

For Anne-Laure, the sight of the old man was like seeing a ghost. _Mon Dieu_ , it was the Monsieur le Mayor. He was definitely older, years tended to do that to a person. His entire head was covered with white hair and the harshness in his face was gone. She noted the way he walked like he no longer had to look over his shoulder and the tender look on his face every time he would glance at the young girl beside him. Marius' beau was a true beauty, something pure and something innocent both within her. She was blonde, just like Anne-Laure, and the dressmaker couldn't help but feel a pang in her heart at this. She had been replaced, cast off so easily. When Mosnieur le Mayor had flown off, Anne-Laure did her best to chase after him. She chased after the man who showed her light when she wanted to lurk in the dark. She chased him all the way to Paris and simply chose to start over in again in a dazzling but unfamiliar city until his return. She always believed he would return to her. Looking at him now made Anne-Laure feel the pains of loneliness she experienced in her first years here, and the pains of rejection and unforgiving toil from the first months of opening her shop. She had gone through hell for him, and he forgot about her just like that.

Everything Anne-Laure knew was skewed and thrown out of proportion. She couldn't tell up from down, she couldn't stand the sudden brightness of the day. She wanted to run away again, she wanted to tear down her shop and forget about Paris. She wanted to forget about everything that cruel man had done to her in that single minute.

But she couldn't pretend that her heart didn't soar, despite the cracking and the bruising. Monsieur le Mayor was _alive_ , he was still here. He wasn't with her but he was alright. A small part of Anne-Laure told her that that should be enough. She's spent years building her life here because that's what he taught her. Jean Valjean taught her to pick up the broken pieces of her life to create a new one. Now that she sees he did the same all over again filled Anne-Laure with a strange sort of resolve. She felt the closure she didn't know she was searching for.

She also felt the unrelenting loneliness brought about by the situation. Jean Valjean chose to give his love away freely once more to a young girl who looked so much like her, but Anne-Laure couldn't even bring herself to properly care for the man beside her in fear of his hatred for the truth she would have to reveal. She refused to blame the Monsieur le Mayor, she refused to blame his new daughter, she refused to blame Enjolras, she refused to blame Marius for bringing them here, and she refused to blame God. It would do her no good to plant the blame on anyone else but herself. Oh what a fool she has been. She had expected a tearful embrace and a welcomed reunion. Now she could only look from afar, alongside the other girl's lover and a man she could never properly love.

The father-daughter pair took a seat on one of the numerous benches in the gardens. It was Enjolras who shook the three of them out of their reverie.

"We have been staring at the two for minutes. We'll be lucky if they don't call the attention of the guards." Enjolras hissed.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Marius sighed, his eyes still on the girl and completely oblivious of the consequences of Enjolras' previous statement. Enjolras growled in frustration and turned to Anne-Laure who had bowed down her head.

"Antoinette? Are you feeling alright?"

Momentarily, Marius tore his eyes away from his love and looked to his friend. "Yes, Anne, you're looking rather pale right now. Is everything alright?"

"I think…I think I should be heading back now. I'm sorry, I'm just feeling lightheaded all of a sudden." Anne-Laure was surprised she could find her own voice. She hoped she would be able to move her legs as well when the time came for her to leave. She just needed to leave, that's all Anne-Laure could think about right now.

"No need to apologize." Enjolras replied quickly. "I will take you back now. We will hail a coach. Pontmercy." he said an abrupt goodbye to the law student, who had already turned his attention back to the girl. Enjolras easily guided a dazed Anne-Laure towards the south gates of the gardens, letting go of her arm only to call for a coach. When the pair was safely enclosed in the carriage, Anne-Laure let out a heavy and shuddering breath.

"What happened to you back there? Please be honest with me, Antoinette." Enjolras begged, his eyes searching her as if the source of her pain would be visible.

"Anne-Laure." she said in a shaky sob, using her tactics once more to divert Enjolras' attention away from the real thing troubling her in the situation.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I quite understand…" Enjolras trailed off as Anne-Laure sucked in another shaky breath.

"That's my real name. Antoinette is just some fancy thing I made up so I could open a dress shop." She was laughing now, and Enjolras' worry increased.

The coach came to a stop, and Anne-Laure wasted no time exiting the carriage. She didn't even wait for Enjolras to open the doors for her. The man fumbled around in a hurry to pay for the ride and to catch up to the girl.

"Wait, Antoi─Anne-Laure!" At the sound of her true name leaving his lips, Anne-Laure stopped at the door of her shop. It had already been closed up by Madame Deslys earlier. The sun was sinking low now, and it was time for everyone to break for supper.

Enjolras stood close behind her, and Anne-Laure refused to look at him. Enjolras was completely at a loss with what was going on. He couldn't understand Anne-Laure's sudden shift in behavior and even more sudden confession. And now the girl looked like she was going to lock herself up in her flat without another word. Enjolras couldn't have that. He needed answers, he needed the truth.

"What happened with you today? What is going on?" All they had done was look at Pontmercy's girl. Enjolras would go as far as to say today had been a spectacular day because he got to spend it with her. He and Antoi─ _Anne-Laure_ talked so easily and connected in such an enchanting way. He finally thought he was making progress.

"There are many things, monsieur, that I couldn't even begin to explain about me." Anne-Laure let out a shuddering laugh at this. "You at least deserved to know my real name. I don't think it will be wise for us to see each other anymore, Enjolras." Anne-Laure surprised herself with this statement, and she could tell she surprised Enjolras as well in the way he gasped. She didn't know where the thought came from, but she immediately knew it was right. Anne-Laure had finally learned what had happened to Jean Valjean. It was time to stop living a fantasy and to…Anne-Laure didn't even know what she needed to do next. It was as if everything she knew was wrong. She had to do something to find herself again.

"No." Enjolras intoned firmly, making Anne-Laure turn to him with wide eyes.

"I will not allow you to run away from me, Anne-Laure. I will let you go tonight, but we will most definitely see each other again. Meet me at the Musain this Friday, we'll have dinner and we'll talk. Maybe you can't explain yourself to me, but there is a lot I must explain to you about me. There is a lot I wish to tell you." At this, Enjolras smiled at her. It was a smile that tugged at Anne-Laure's heartstrings. It was a smile that told her that if she did not meet him on Friday, his whole world would crumble. It was a smile that clearly said she held his heart in her hands. It was within her power to crush him or to love him.

The last thing she ever wanted to do to Enjolras was to hurt him.

"Can I trust that I will see you this Friday, Anne-Laure?" he said so softly, it was like only the two of them existed.

Anne-Laure nodded wordlessly.

"Then I will keep the faith. Until then, _Ma chérie._ "

He walked away from her, the sunset encasing his shadowed silhouette in a blinding light.

Anne-Laure couldn't bring herself to look away.


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

 _(Explanations and Manipulations)_

 _A/N: Sorry this one took a while too! I've been so busy, but I was able to type this one up real quick. Maybe you can expect an update every 10-15 days hehe. This one's kind of a transition chapter. Things will definitely pick up in the next! Enjoy!_

* * *

Anne-Laure spent the rest of the weekdays holed up in her workroom and flat, undergoing a self-imposed imprisonment. Her offense? Well, Anne-Laure wasn't completely sure. Perhaps she remained by herself all alone in her rooms because she was afraid of committing another foolish mistake. She didn't want to call moving to Paris a mistake, but in the grander scheme of things – if one thought about her ultimate goal of one day reuniting with her beloved Monsieur le Mayor – she had made a poor decision. Anne-Laure should have forgotten about him the moment he escaped that small town. She should have listened to the nuns and stayed with them. She should have saved herself the heartbreak.

But if she didn't move to Paris she wouldn't have been able to open up her own shop. She wouldn't know just how grand and wonderful and striking a city could be. She wouldn't have met the _Les Amis_. She wouldn't have met the poor Marius, the drunk Grantaire, the eloquent Jehan…she wouldn't have met Enjolras. Bright, blazing, and beautiful Enjolras. A lifetime without Donatien Enjolras was unfathomable.

These thoughts battled one another in Anne-Laure's mind, so these past few days Anne-Laure only did the things she knew to be true. She could trust in the accuracy of dressmaking, the eternal goodness of freshly baked bread and her ability to pretend she was alright. The room was strewn with dresses, pieces that Anne-Laure had come up with in this flurry of madness. She feigned a strike of inspiration when Madame Deslys asked why she insisted on locking herself up in her workroom and flat. It was certainly believable with the amount of clothing Anne-Laure was producing. The shop was filled with customers each day – all of them amazed with the ever-changing line of dresses lining the racks. It was as if another dress was placed on the rack the moment something was purchased.

It was up to Madame Deslys to keep Anne-Laure fed and healthy. She was the one who insisted Anne-Laure bathe and fix herself up whenever she stayed too long in her workshop. _"Really, mademoiselle! You hired me to be a saleslady - not your maid!"_

In the morning of Friday Anne-Laure was still in her workshop, mindlessly sewing whatever was on the table. She was a bundle of nerves and she was completely aware of it. Such anxiety and self-consciousness were never a good combination. It was as if she was hyper-aware of everything. She noticed how the room had gotten a little dusty, and how the sewing machine needed to be oiled soon. Anne-Laure noticed the grimy windows and the short supply of chiffon and lace. All these little details consumed her, it was her own mind's way of protecting her from the dinner she dreaded this coming evening.

That's why Anne-Laure jumped and let out a little yelp when she heard the knock on the door.

"Mademoiselle Gardet! Are you quite alright?" Madame Deslys exclaimed as she burst into the room, immediately rushing to Anne-Laure's side. Anne-Laure sat panting on her chair, a hand to her racing chest.

"Yes, yes, of course," she waved her worker's worries away. "You just startled me, that's all. Why are you here now? Is it time for dinner already?" Anne-Laure could feel her heart pick up the pace once more. ' _The sun was still shining! How could it be time already?!_ '

" _Non,_ mademoiselle. There is still at least two hours to go before then. There is someone who would like to see you, mademoiselle. A Monsieur Fauchelevent. He has a dress he would like to commission for his daughter, he tells me. And apparently, he's never heard the end of talk about this shop. Apparently his daughter has not ceased begging him to take her here. He thinks it would be a nice surprise for her to already have a dress to try on once he does bring her here."

Madame Deslys already lost Anne-Laure in the beginning of her ramble. Fauchelevent? The name was familiar to Anne-Laure. Feelings of disdain and exhaustion seemed to come with it. But she couldn't for the life of her pinpoint from when exactly she could remember it.

"Well then, tell him I'll be along in just a moment. I suppose I should make myself look more presentable." Anne-Laure looked down at her clothes from the morning. She didn't even change out of her sleeping things; she had merely donned her usual thin dark blue coat over it.

"That would be wise, mademoiselle," Madame Deslys shot her a strained smile and exited the room.

Anne-Laure took a deep breath and stood, immediately making her way for her flat above the shop. If she was going to get ready, she might as well prepare herself for dinner later tonight. She splashed some cold water from a basin to get rid of the day's grime. Anne-Laure quickly chose and put on a dark green dress and pinned her light-colored hair up in a simple and neat hairstyle.

Anne-Laure descended the stairs down to the store with her head down the entire time. The daylight streaming in through the open shop windows was blinding to her. It was like the days she spent alone made her allergic to the sunlight. Anne-Laure shrugged off the silly thought. She needed to get her bearings together enough to meet the customer.

"Aah, Mademoiselle Gardet! Allow me to take you to the monsieur." Madame Deslys greeted her at the landing and immediately ushered her towards the waiting customer. The man was tall and broad, and a black hat covered his head. He had his back turned to them as he seemed to be inspecting a line of coats.

"Those are bestsellers with the workmen from the nearby factories." Anne-Laure piped up in a form of greeting. The man's head shot up, but he still didn't turn to face them. "Of course, if you're looking for something that shows a little more flair, you should turn to the rack next to you." Anne-Laure silently waved off Madame Deslys, trusting herself to be fully capable of dealing with the customer. A man buying a dress for his daughter is a character that is usually more excitable, nervous and out of step. This man here was quiet but seemed sure of himself. Was the story he told Madame Deslys the complete truth?

"A coat is still a coat. And the workers of Paris know the cold better than any man sitting in a warm mansion." the man replied gruffly and Anne-Laure had to hold in a gasp. _'Mon Dieu, he is_ here _. Standing in my shop – he is here! Does he know who I am? Did he really come looking for me? MON DIEU, WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?!'_

Finally, Valjean turned to face her. His face had more lines than she remembered, and the hair under his hat was a stark white. His eyes bore into hers but they held no familiarity. Just a certain politeness that he seemed to regard everyone he didn't know with.

"Good afternoon, Mademoiselle Gardet. I am Monsieur Fauchelevent. Did Madame Deslys inform you that I am interested in commissioning a dress for my daughter?" he introduced himself immediately without affair. Anne-Laure stared at him for a moment, astounded that the man couldn't even recognize her as he looked at her straight on. Did she look different? The Monsieur le Mayor certainly changed as well – the hair, the lines, and crinkles around the corners of his mouth and eyes that weren't there before. Everything about him was different. The last time he saw her, Anne-Laure was a little girl – hardly even a teenager. Now she had grown into a young woman. A girl grown into a woman is a caterpillar grown into a butterfly.

Was she trying to delude herself more by making excuses? Valjean visited her shop for his _new_ daughter, not at all to see her. Anne-Laure needed to get her mind out of the gutter and at least make a profit out of this situation.

" _Oui_ , monsieur. Have you seen any designs you think would suit her? Have you already decided on a colour as well? Would you happen to have her measurements from previous dresses she may have commissioned? I would require those in order to get started on the dress." Anne-Laure prattled on, listing down all the things she needed from him. For a while, the ex-convict also stared at her. His eyes seemed to be filled with questions as if he had made a new and sudden discovery.

"This would be the first dress she commissions. No matter, the both of you have similar frames. She is, perhaps, a few inches shorter. I was thinking a light blue would be a good colour, and I think she would be happy to have a dress of one of the latest styles that you have on display at your window right now. I'm afraid plenty of what she owns are dresses that I pick up on my way. She does her best to patch them up to match her figure. She is quite talented at it, and she also has a maid to assist her. Forgive me, mademoiselle, I am rambling. It's just ─ you remind me so much of her. And talking to my daughter is the easiest thing in the world."

Anne-Laure couldn't help but think that there was a time when that statement would have been about her. Valjean himself noted the similarities between Anne-Laure and his new daughter. He even said she mended dresses! What's next? Did the girl also have a particular fondness for bread?

Anne-Laure took a deep breath then began discussing material as a transition to state her price. The monsieur agreed almost instantly and even offered to pay the expenses in full.

"Monsieur, that would be most unwise. You never know, perhaps she would some changes, possibly making the cost much less."

"You are doing a great service for me, mademoiselle. I certainly owe it to you." He left no room for argument and Anne-Laure had no choice but to lead him to the till where she accepted his money. He gave her a short bow and informed her that he would return with his daughter in a week. Anne-Laure assured him that the dress would be ready for its first fitting by then.

"He seemed most agreeable." Madame Deslys noted when he was out of sight.

"Yes, less fussy than most of our customers." Anne-Laure murmured.

The door from the back shop chimed open and a girl strolled in. Anne-Laure could tell that she was around her own age and that she was from the streets. The raggedy girl tried to hide it by cinching a belt around her too thin waist and wearing a heavy coat that was seasons out of fashion. Nonetheless, the gamine girl breezed in with confidence and perused the contents of a few lines before moving closer to where Anne-Laure and Madame Deslys stood.

"It will be Mama's birthday soon." the girl murmured as her grimy fingers flicked through some of the plainer dresses. Anne-Laure noticed the way Madame Deslys was cringing but appreciated how she did nothing to stop the girl. The back shop was made fpr people like this girl. Anne-Laure thought it important that even the working class and the poorer people of Paris could come into a proper shop to purchase clothes. It gave people a sense of dignity. A shallow kind, maybe, but it was important to Anne-Laure. It was something she was unable to do when she was younger.

"She would probably whine for something lovelier, but I think Azelma and I could at least come up with enough for one of these…" the girl continued on as she looked through some of the cheapest dresses in Anne-Laure's shop. She stepped closer to the shopkeepers who kept a watchful eye over her.

"That man here earlier. Do you think he'd spare anything for a girl like me?" the girl chuckled. "Mama's becoming such a sickly woman, a lot of our money has to go to her medicine. But I do think she would want a lovely dress."

"Perhaps you could save up the money instead so that you could hire a doctor to heal your mother permanently." Madame Deslys said in a haughty tone. Nevertheless, her message rang true and good. The girl merely smiled at her.

"Every woman wants a pretty dress. Is that why that man was here earlier? Was he buying a dress for a pretty woman?"

' _A beautiful young woman indeed.'_ Anne-Laure answered in her mind while Madame Deslys sputtered.

"Dear girl! If you have come here to gossip, I suggest you leave right this instant! This establishment is meant for the selling of dresses, _not_ information."

The girl turned to face them completely so they could see her roll her eyes. She then directed her gaze to Anne-Laure. "You're looking an awful lot familiar, miss. Maybe you look just like every other pretty girl in Paris. Monsieur Pontmercy would certainly love a girl like you." said the girl, ending with a scowl on her face.

Anne-Laure furrowed her eyebrows but said nothing. The girl was talking about Marius, there was no other person alive in Paris who bore that name granted by Napoleon. It was suspicious how the gamine was on point about Marius' interests, though. He was interested in a girl like Anne-Laure – he was enamored with the daughter of Monsieur le Mayor.

"Perhaps your mother would like a white dress for her birthday." Anne-Laure stated. "Older women seem to like the classic colours."

The girl snorted and made _pfft_ sound by blowing some hair away from her eyes. " _Non_ , she would adore a black dress she could wear to my father's funeral."

"I see." Anne-Laure replied, and the girl stalked off. She began looking through another rack.

"That man who was just here. Will he be returning?"

"That is none of your business, girl." Madame Deslys scowled, finally deciding she's had enough. Giving Anne-Laure no time to protest, the woman marched towards the girl and forcefully led her out of the shop. Anne-Laure sighed and straightened out the racks the girl had left in disarray. When Madame Deslys returned, Anne-Laure requested that she close up the shop early. She had a dinner to attend, after all.

* * *

"Well if it isn't the beautiful Antoinette!" Courfeyrac greeted from his perch on the top railing of the stairs. Anne-Laure's head shot up to face him, and her lips formed a small and soft grin. "The only one who got away."

"Please, monsieur," Anne-Laure made a dramatic show of rolling her eyes. "Most of the women you've eyed got away. And the unlucky ones you managed to ensnare sprang off the moment your guard slipped." Bahorel and Joly, who were seated in the table by the staircase, roared together in raucous laughter.

Courfeyrac remained unshaken. "You don't know how mistaken you are, _ma cherie_. Won't you let me show you?" He held out his hand to her, a sleazy grin on his face.

"Apollo would have your head if you laid a hand on her." Feuilly mused, popping up behind the flirt. "Good evening to you, Antoinette. It is a most pleasant surprise to see you here."

"Yes, a lovely evening to you, our darling Antoinette." Bahorel bellowed from his seat. "We were about to go and pick you up ourselves, if only to make our fearless leader stop from fretting about in between speeches." The other men laughed at the statement, but it left Anne-Laure feeling rather flustered. Was Enjolras truly worried that she would not come here tonight?

"What The Chief doesn't know won't hurt him." Courfeyrac retorted when the laughter died down, his hand still outstretched. The way he wiggled his eyebrows at her made her laugh.

"That sounds a bit too serious for you, monsieur." Enjolras seemed to melt out of the shadows behind Anne-Laure. Bahorel and Joly threw themselves into another laughing fit and Feuilly wore a knowing grin. "Although with the presence of _our_ dear Anne-Laure here," he glanced pointedly at Bahorel, as if not noticing the way he let her true name slip out of his lips. "I do find myself rather worried. What's this all about then?"

"Just Monsieur Courf joking around like always." Anne-Laure wore a strained smile as she faced him, the nerves coming to her now that she was finally with him. But Enjolras had a tender smile on his face for her, making the other _Les Amis_ share their own grins with each other. Their stone god chief only ever let his guard down for the young dressmaker. Even the rest of the students couldn't deny they were attracted to her odd charm. The best thing about her was her kind heart. It was as if she was raised to become a saint, but her mischievous tendencies from whatever life she had before remained. It was always a laugh when one of the students realized they were missing a slice of bread from their plates. There were even instances when Anne-Laure would be found playing around with one of their wallets that was supposedly snug in their pockets. It would be unsurprising to find a loaf of bread in there afterwards. Yes, their girl had a knack for stealing her way through their pockets, just as she stole her way into their hearts.

In return, Anne-Laure adored them. She was drawn by their vigorous spirits and unwavering loyalty. They were a different kind of family from what she had before, but they gave her the sense of companionship she had always longed for. The special kind of connection only people close to your age could offer.

"What is that you called her, Enjolras? Anne-Laure? Is that your new pet name for her?" Courfeyrac burst out laughing, his statement earning a few chuckles from the rest of the boys as well. Anne-Laure quickly gripped onto Enjolras' arm to keep him from speaking, telling him with her eyes to keep it quiet for now.

In the next moment, there was a rumbling of footsteps rushing up the stairs and Marius burst through, running into both Enjolras and Anne-Laure.

" _Mon Dieu_ , I am sorry!" the young baron exclaimed, his hands reaching out to steady Enjolras and Anne-Laure. The other students grimaced at the sight of the former Bonaparatist. He had a knack for missing meetings or coming awfully late. It made a number of them wonder how Anne-Laure could show the same sisterly affection she had for them towards him.

"Always chasing after something aren't you, Marius?" Anne-Laure quirked her lips at the way the other man's cheeks flushed with colour. It helped keep her from shuddering at how Enjolras' arm was wound around her middle. He had placed it there moments ago to keep her from falling. She was fine now, but his arm was still around her.

"Anne ─ it's as if it's been years since I last saw you." Marius chuckled.

"Please, monsieur, I saw you a few days ago."

"Oi! That's a lot less time than we last saw you, Antoinette!" Bossuet cried out. "Why haven't you been coming around here? Did you know Combeferre has taken to eating the bread Madame Rosita reserves for you every morning?"

"Whatever happened to fraternity, eh?" Combeferre exclaimed from further into the room.

"Is everyone here for dinner?" Anne-Laure questioned, turning slightly to be able to face Enjolras. She didn't account for how close his face would be to hers. Her breathing picked up and she was sure that from this close, he would be able to hear her heart beating.

"You arrived a little earlier than I expected. I have a few things I need to discuss with them." Enjolras answered her, his arm still tightly wound around her body.

"Oh, shall I wait here then?"

" _Non_ , you should wait downstairs."

" _Oui_ , mademoiselle, our Chief has this blasted rule about not allowing lovely ladies like yourself into our meetings. It is truly an outrage!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, having heard their entire exchange. "It seems he won't be making an exception, even for you."

Anne-Laure turned to Enjolras and saw the unmistakable stern look on his face. He wouldn't be shaken from this. Anne-Laure could plead and flutter her eyelashes, but tonight he took on the role of The Chief. Whatever he and the rest of the _Les Amis_ were doing here was serious enough for them to leave Anne-Laure out of it. It was certainly suspicious and Anne-Laure knew she would get to the bottom of it sooner or later. But the last time she saw him, Enjolras gave her a chance – he gave her one night. Anne-Laure can do the same now.

"Well, this is most ungentlemanly of you, monsieur." Anne-Laure pouted and set her hands on her hips in her what she considered her most disappointed pose. The Les Amis had to stifle their own laughter at the sight of Anne-Laure looking like a kicked puppy. "I have half a mind to just leave."

" _Non_ , that is quite impossible." Enjolras shook his head. "Let me escort you down and I'll tell you why." Without waiting for an answer, he used the arm he still had around her to steer her away from the rest of the Les Amis. He kept her close as he led her down the steps, and if Anne-Laure only closed her eyes she could imagine she was floating in the arms of an angel.

He whispered explanations and manipulations into her ear. "Firstly, it is impossible for you to have only half a mind. You are the most intelligent woman I know, far more learned than half the men up there. Second, you made a promise to me. Would you deny me your word?"

Enjolras pulled away and didn't feel the tremor that made Anne-Laure shiver. She stared at him, somewhat lost in a daze of golden brightness that was Enjolras.

"So you expect me to wait down here for you then? Like a housewife waiting for her husband to come home from war?"

"Mademoiselle, is this a proposal?" Enjolras asked with a smirk and Anne-Laure almost scowled at him.

He continued. "No. I ask that you now wait for me here like a loyal woman ready to rescue her friend at a moment's notice."

Anne-Laure rolled her eyes. "I hate how you have a way with words, Monsieur."

Instead of coming up with another witty retort, Enjolras merely faced her with a soft smile on his face. "Yes, I expect that you will."

Another round of raucous laughter sounded from upstairs and Enjolras seemed to look up with disdain. "If I don't return now, there will be no hope for our meeting tonight. But I promise, Anne-Laure," he eyed her with some kind of hidden fire when he spoke her true name. "Tonight, I will tell you about everything. I will tell you what sort of treachery I have committed against our king, and the salvation we will thrust upon our beloved _Patria_. Tonight, I will ask you to take me as I am or to tell me if I should wipe away all my hope of ever being loved by you."

Anne-Laure could barely grasp half of what he said, and at another round of laughter, Enjolras left her sitting at a stool with the barmaid Madame Rosita.

"It's as if those boys come here every night and make a mess of this place." she remarked with what seemed like happy disdain. There was a strange look on her face too, as if she had been spoken to by an angel just now. Could that angel have been Enjolras?

"We still have some bread from today's batch. It's yours for free if you want it."

Anne-Laure's head was already nodding at the mention of bread. Madame Rosita chuckled, all too familiar with that particular quirk of hers, and stepped away to get the food. Anne-Laure lounged around the bar, mindlessly eyeing the sights around her. The Musain wasn't packed tonight, there were not any who could afford a costly meal every night in Paris.

But there was a man approaching her now. He was old and he was large. He walked with a subtle limp and dragged himself around as if something heavy rested on his shoulders.

Valjean was walking towards her now.

"Anne-Laure."

For a moment, Anne-Laure could only blink up at him. Why was he here, standing in front of her now? Why did she have to keep seeing him? Did she constantly have to be reminded of the failure the past years have been for her?

She managed to pull herself together to form a reply. "Why, Monsieur Fauchelevent! What a pleasant surprise! Good evening, are you here for quick dinner?"

" _Anne-Laure_." he said again, this time more imploringly. Anne-Laure furrowed her eyebrows at this exchange. What could he possibly want now? If he wanted to talk dresses, he would have stopped by her shop again tomorrow. Was he here to talk about Marius? Did he follow Marius here and stop when he ran upstairs? Did he see her descend the steps with Enjolras and decide to ask her about Marius? Was he just being polite when he called out to her?

He called out to her.

Called her.

Using her real name.

Not Mademoiselle Gardet. Not Antoinette.

Anne-Laure.

* * *

When Enjolras finally made his way down, she was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

 _(More)_

 _A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! The next update might take a while too, huhu. But thank you so much for sticking with this story! I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

Anne-Laure gripped the edges of her bar stool, her knuckles turning white with the force. She looked up at Valjean's tall and imposing form. Anne-Laure sat still, open-mouthed and completely at a loss for words. He said her name and the rest of the world went silent. The lamps behind Valjean glowed around him with a searing light and Anne-Laure was so sure she was exaggerating but she couldn't help it. Here was a man who once meant the world to her and all she could do was stare at him. She was frozen and frazzled at once.

"I am deeply sorry for how long it took for me to find you. Hiding and searching are difficult to do at the same time." he whispered quietly, but Anne-Laure heard him well enough.

"I suppose that's true." It was all she could think to say. She could still recognize the way his expression hardened, heard his frustration in the way he let out a long sigh. He huddled over to the stool next to her and sat with a hunched form.

He didn't look at her as he spoke once more. "I'm afraid I don't do too well with family matters."

"Perhaps it would be good to remember to leave a few extra francs to cover the costs of the days I will forego pickpocketing so I could figure out a way to find you." Anne-Laure muttered, inwardly cringing at how young and petulant she was acting (who was she? _Marius?_ ).

To her surprise, Valjean chuckled. The sound was a low rumble, like thunder rolling away. "You haven't changed at all, little one."

"I have changed plenty enough!" Anne-Laure exclaimed, consciously continuing her petty tirade as she slipped off her seat. "Enough for me to be the one to walk away this time."

Anne-Laure was sure it was the right thing to do. To leave him behind and to let him know how it felt to be abandoned would grant her satisfaction, and would put an end to her misery. Right? _Right?_ There was a time when she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and cling onto him like he could disappear at any moment. But that was the thing. This man loved to pull disappearing acts, but Anne-Laure wanted different things now. She wanted someone fearless and blazing, not someone who lurked in the shadows. Leaving him would convey that perfectly.

Right?

Anne-Laure took a step towards the door but stopped when she heard loud footsteps nearing the entrance. There's an instinct instilled in every person who's done their own fair share of wrongdoings in their lifetimes. And even if the person turns over a new leaf, this instinct never goes away.

The instinctual sense that a damn gendarme was nearby (the boots, it was always the boots).

In one smooth motion, Valjean stood and pulled Anne-Laure behind him. With a strong and firm grip on her arm, he dragged her behind the bar and into a small enclosure that led to a backdoor. Another thing ex-convicts and former thieves could always sense? Escape routes.

At almost the same moment, the door flipped open and revealed the unmistakable figure of one of the Paris patrol. The figure stomped in, not even bothering to hide that fact that he had arrived. He paced around, like a hound sniffing for a whiff of a criminal. He stepped into the searing light Valjean had occupied only moments before and the sight of his face made Anne-Laure's blood run cold.

Was this week dedicated to faces from her past coming back to life? What was next? Would Anne-Laure's parents rear their faces in, yelling 'Surprise!'? Inspector Javert was looming around, searching for something or someone and both she and Monsieur le Mayor were only a few feet away. The moment was inconceivable for Anne-Laure, and to think the thing she was most worried for tonight was whatever Enjolras had to say to her.

The door leading to the café's kitchen swung open and the barmaid noisily made her way in. "Here you are, dearie, you'll have to eat them cold seeing as it's ─ _oh my!_ " Madame Rosita screeched, nearly dropping the large plate of bread she was carrying. "I apologize, monsieur. I was expecting someone else to be here."

"And may I ask, madame, just exactly who you were expecting?" Javert asked slowly, raising a curved brow. Anne-Laure watched as Madame Rosita shivered visibly. In the next moment, a round of laughter rang from the floor upstairs and both adults turned to look.

Anne-Laure felt a tugging in her arm. Valjean had managed to pry the door open soundlessly and was urging her to go. But how could she leave Madame Rosita in the clutches of the frightful Inspector Javert?

"A young girl who has a preference for bread. She's about yay high," the barmaid raised her hand to approximate Anne-Laure's height. "And she's a pretty young thing with a full head of blonde hair. She was here just now. Perhaps you saw where she went on your way in?"

"I can't say I have, madame. My apologies. Perhaps the patrons upstairs might have seen her from the window above? Do those students frequent this establishment often?" Javert gave her a piercing look. To Anne-Laure's surprise, Madame Rosita held her head high and faced the man straight on.

"Plenty of students come here, monsieur. Their faces change every day, I can't remember a single one. This café is quite close to the university and the boarding houses, I suppose that explains a bit."

There was a look of distaste on Javert's face. "Well then, madame, I trust that you will inform the police of any troubling activity?"

Anne-Laure didn't her the barmaid's reply for Valjean had forcefully pulled her away from the Musain and into the grimy streets of nighttime Paris. They zigzagged their way into the crevices and corners of the backstreets, never stepping foot on the larger and brighter boulevards. They ran for a long time, and Anne-Laure was losing breath. She was certain Monsieur le Mayor was far older than he let on, but he only seemed to be running faster. They ran until Anne-Laure couldn't even recognize where she was. Were they still in Paris?

"M-Monsieur le…Monsieur… _Monsieur le Mayor!_ " Anne-Laure exclaimed and Valjean stopped abruptly. Anne-Laure stumbled ungracefully into him but he held her up then let her go immediately as she had been righted. As if touching her skin made him burn.

"Those days…little one, we have to leave those days behind. I am not that man anymore. I'm a man on the run, a man in hiding. I'm not the town mayor anymore, Anne-Laure. That was all pretend."

Pretend. That was exactly what Anne-Laure was doing here in Paris.

"And Inspector Javert?" she blurted out, avoiding the imposter issue completely. "He's still around after all this time? The same man who accused you of being Jean Valjean who then personally went to your office to apologize for doing so wrongly ─ _when he was completely right the entire time?_ How about him? Is he still that man?!"

"I am truly sorry, Anne-Laure."

His deep voice rang clear in the wet and dark cobblestone streets of Paris. His words hit Anne-Laure like a cold slap in the face. She still didn't know what to feel.

And she was thankful the world decided to take mercy, for it provided yet another distraction.

"What d'ya mean that's all yer got for tonight?!" a voice streamed down from the next street over. Without another word, Valjean quickly pulled Anne-Laure behind a building. They both warily watched for the oncoming figures. Tall men in shabby suits and top hats came into view, their faces obscured by the dark of night. Their body language clearly showed frustration just a few steps short of violent anger.

" _Mon Dieu_ , Babette! That ol' woman lived all alone! All her servants left her to bite the dust at sunset. It should have been as fucking simple as stealing from a babe!" a new voice exclaimed, one of the figures gesturing wildly. Anne-Laure saw Valjean's shoulders stiffen but didn't dare to voice out her curiosity for fear of being discovered.

"You yerself said that tonight woulda be a long shot. You were right, monsieur, she hardly had anything good in that shabby mansion. Just another cunt faking it."

"Eh, and ain't it you speakin' of some rich philantrophist yer' sure has got pockets that will feed us for nine lifetimes?" A third voice shot in, earning agreements from the other men.

"'Ponine's takin' care of it, don't want you fools ruining this for me." The first voice growled in retort.

"Eh, Montparnasse, shouldn't ya be helping out your girl? Keepin' her entertained during 'em boring nights, eh?" All of the men laughed at that statement, and Anne-Laure's lips formed into a scowl. These men were clearly good for nothing – they were crass and they were certainly proud of it. They were a lot like the people Anne-Laure had encountered during her time as a thief.

"Why don't we get to more important matters huh, boys? Now what about that Monsieur Laf─" The remaining part of the first voice's statement was cut off from Anne-Laure's hearing range when Valjean yanked her from their hiding place. His grip on her arm was strong enough to be bruising as he pounded across the streets, huffing with what seemed like panic or exhaustion. Their sprint slowed to a quiet shuffle when more lamps lined the streets, and Anne-Laure started to recognize where she was. They were only a street away from her shop and flat.

"Tonight is not a night for explanations, it seems, little one." said Valjean, straightening his posture as he properly escorted her down the street. Anne-Laure huffed at that, sparing a thought for how she left Enjolras even after he praised her for being a woman who kept her word. Would he still think of her the same way after tonight?

"I will see you next when I bring Cosette in for a fitting, yes? Perhaps we can even have lunch together, and let the two of you get to know each other."

"Cosette?" Anne-Laure repeated, staring at Valjean with wide eyes. "As in Fantine's daughter Cosette? You really found her, monsieur?"

Valjean hung his head low. "One of the regrets I hold on to is never being able to reunite that woman with her child. Taking her in as my own was the only way I could think of to atone. But I could never see Cosette as a means for my salvation. She has become like a true daughter to me, and hopefully now a sister for you." The reverent way he talked about Fantine's daughter placed a small smile on Anne-Laure's face. It also lifted a heavy weight that's been burdening her heart. Perhaps she wasn't quite replaced after all. He found Fantine's child, the only thing the woman ever wanted to her last moment. And he was an excellent father to the girl, that Anne-Laure was sure of. It filled Anne-Laure's heart with happiness that those two had found each other. She couldn't wait to meet Cosette.

' _Oh how easily things change.'_ Anne-Laure mused in her mind. Wasn't she forcing herself into a yelling match Valjean just moments ago? Was her mind just trying to find ways to not being angry with him?

Anne-Laure was pulled from her thoughts when Valjean made his third abrupt stop of the night.

"Monsieur? What is it?" The pair was already entering her street. What else could set the man on high alert? A homeless man ambling down the street? A stray cat wandering in the shadows? A gamine sneaking around under lamplights?

A golden haired man sitting at the door of her shop?

"Do you know who that man is?"

" _Oui_ , monsieur. He is a friend of mine. I was supposed to meet him tonight, I'm sure he's just worried."

"Then this is where I must leave you. You will tell that man to leave and head straight to your room."

Anne-Laure snapped her head up to look at him. "You will stop ordering me about, monsieur. I'm no longer a child, I haven't been for a long time now. I will do as I wish."

Valjean was visibly tight-lipped, his eyes alternating between Anne-Laure and Enjolras' figure. He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I apologize, Anne-Laure. But it would give me peace of mind to see that you make it home safely."

"Monsieur Enjolras would never hurt me." Anne-Laure declared, surprised at her own ardent and faithful tone. Something flashed in Valjean's eyes and he sighed again. Without another word, he nodded to her and turned to walk into a dark street alley. She could no longer see him, but she was sure he was still watching. With a sigh of her own, Anne-Laure made her way down the street. As she got closer to her shop, Enjolras caught sight of her and immediately rose to his feet. For the first time, Anne-Laure noticed how he held a box in his hands.

Anne-Laure stopped a few feet away from him. She didn't miss the way his eyes roamed all over her form, as if expecting to find some sort of injury or mishap. She frowned at her own insensitivity, not having to wonder what his reaction must have been when he realized she had left without another word. He was here, wasn't he? That should say it all.

"It's freezing, Enjolras. How long were you planning to wait? What if I was already asleep in my room? What if I didn't come home tonight?"

She watched as his grip on the box tightened, his hands wrinkling the sides. His face had taken on a morose disposition. "I would have waited all night. It would have been nothing. This blazer keeps me warm." Anne-Laure felt her face heat up when she realized he was wearing the red blazer she made. "You told me yourself you never blew out your candle at night, you prefer to let them die out on their own. And while that is an incredibly dangerous habit, it at least let me know you weren't home just yet. And if you didn't return, you know I would search every inch of Paris for you." The way he was looking at her made her shudder, and she hoped he couldn't see it. But with the way he was watching her, it would be impossible for him to miss anything about her.

"Then I thank you, monsieur." Anne-Laure gave him a smile, but he still looked at her with a hard look on his face.

"Will you tell me why you left tonight?"

"I will." said Anne-Laure. "But let's go inside first, I'm exhausted."

Enjolras was stunned at that suggestion. "Why can't you tell me out here? It must be nearly midnight! It would be completely improper for me to enter your flat at daylight, what more now?"

Anne-Laure rolled her eyes and stomped to her store door. She shoved her key into the keyhole and forcefully pushed the door open. "Donatien, it's _freezing_ out here. And I trust you completely. You would never hurt me." she repeated the same words she said to Valjean. "Now all you need to do is decide if you trust yourself or not. What will it be? Are you coming in?"

He stared at her, his face so different from that hard and stern expression from a few minutes ago. Now he looked at her with something akin to fear and a severe expression of confusion.

The moment passed and Anne-Laure was about to close the door when he took a few long strides and stepped in.

"Madame Rosita sent me off with this bread. She said she had no idea where you went and asked me to give it to you." he stated while holding up the box he held.

Anne-Laure shut the door, casting the shop in near complete darkness. Only the moonlight streaming from the window aided their vision. She couldn't see him now, but Anne-Laure could most certainly feel him near her.

"Now I wonder why she would think you would see me tonight." Anne-Laure murmured and her breath hitched when she felt him step closer.

"Perhaps it's because everyone knows just how much I would do for you."

"Sit through a cold night to make sure I receive my bread?"

"More."

Anne-Laure couldn't help but touch him then. She fisted a hand on the fabric of his blazer, pulling herself closer to him. "I…thank you, Enjolras. I don't know what I ever did to…we…we should go upstairs. I can prepare tea and we can share the bread." She pulled away then almost immediately, and she was so sure she was seeing his sky blue eyes shining like starlight now. Without another word, she strode towards the staircase at the back of her shop leading to the second floor.

She walked in the darkness, all too used to the color. She heard Enjolras stumble over a few stray things here and there and never failed to chuckle. At some point, he stopped apologizing and turned to growling every time he fumbled about.

When they finally made it to her apartment, she immediately began setting out candles and heating water for the tea. Anne-Laure brought out a few pieces of plain cutlery and plates for the bread and Enjolras handled setting the table by the window. The dining table only had room for two and offered a pretty view of the streets outside. Sitting with the man of her dreams in the Parisian moonlight? Anne-Laure couldn't believe it was actually happening.

They shared dinner together in comfortable silence. Well, Anne-Laure found herself growing a little more anxious by the minute because now she could tell that Enjolras rarely took his eyes off her. It was like he was expecting her to run out the door. And his expression told her that if she did, he would just charge after her.

What she was about to say down at the shop flashed in her mind. _'I don't know what I ever did to deserve the affections of a great man like you. Won't you tell me?'_

When the bread was gone and the tea grew cold, the two turned to look out the window. Briefly, Anne-Laure wondered if Valjean was still out their hidden in the street's shadows. Was he watching when she invited Enjolras in? Did he see the candlelight flicker on in her second floor? What did he think of her now? Or did he return home as quickly as possible, anxious to see Cosette after such a long night? Did he tell her about Anne-Laure? Did Cosette know about the girl who had come before her?

"When the people of France overthrew their king, were they ready to abandon the unjust systems that prevail over every aspect of our lives?" Enjolras mused from across her.

Too used to these sort of whims from him, Anne-Laure didn't blink twice before she replied. "Probably not, seeing as we still have a king."

"Every day the people of Paris toil. Do they not care that they work merely so they can have a proper burial at the sweet end of it all? The situation is not much better off in the provinces. The farmers and their families have little hope of rising in their situation. They grow food for another family's table while they starve. Is this what the people fought for? For our Patria's children to suffer even more?"

"Maybe the people fought because there was nothing else they could do but be angry."

Enjolras turned to her sharply then. "But it is different now. Now the people have learned. We know exactly what we're fighting for. That makes all the difference. The people will be victorious once more, and this victory will shine throughout all the generations to come. History will not be doomed to repeat itself."

"Does the rest of France know what you know?"

"They will."

"Will the rest of France agree? Will they give up the only thing they have known their whole lives so easily?"

"Once they know the truth the people will create a new system, a _just_ system."

"How will they know?"

"I will educate them."

"Will they believe you?"

"Will you believe me?"

It was Anne-Laure's turn to look at him with an affronted expression. Somehow, this turned into something a whole lot more serious than their usual banter. Enjolras had played this game with her many times before, but after everything tonight – after knowing what tonight was supposed to be – she knew something was different now. What is it that he had said before?

" _I will tell you what sort of treachery I have committed against our king, and the salvation we will thrust upon our beloved Patria. Tonight, I will ask you to take me as I am or to tell me if I should wipe away all my hope of ever being loved by you."_

"With all that I am." Anne-Laure whispered, but in the dead of the night Enjolras could hear her perfectly well.

"Would you follow me into battle?"

"More."

Enjolras gave her his first smile of the night, and Anne-Laure could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. This smile was bright and blazing, the perfect smile for a man like him. He looked like he could conquer a country, he looked like he could overthrow a ruler, and he looked like he could sit on the throne himself. But this smile was for her. So what could it possibly be saying?

"Will you take me then? Will you take all that I am? Will you take this heart that yearns for you and at the same time aches for Patria?" A rare heart is a heart that could feel so strongly for more than one cause. A woman who did not ask a rare heart to choose was even rarer.

"If I believed I deserved you, then the answer would be yes. You know that, monsieur."

"Why do you think so little of yourself? Calling you mine would be my greatest honor."

"I am a thief, I am an imposter. France's golden boy deserves a golden girl – not a gamin who belongs with the dirt."

"If what you say is accurate, then you will only make this fight even more important to me. I will fight for a society where you and I can love each other recklessly and fearlessly."

Anne-Laure leaned back into her chair with a sigh. "You are a hard person to convince, Enjolras. I don't remember it being this difficult to change your mind."

"I'm not changing my mind about you."

"I will become your downfall."

"I don't mind that at all." He grabbed her hand right then, immediately slipping his fingers in between hers. "I promise you a new France that you can face unafraid, I promise to love you with all that I am and more, I promise to grant you everything you could ever need and desire ─ if only you'll say you'll be mine, Anne-Laure."

"You're making it difficult to refuse."

"That is the goal, my love."

Anne-Laure's head shot up and Enjolras stared back at her, slightly wild-eyed himself. He cleared his throat before he wordlessly gave her a single nod. Anne-Laure shifted her gaze to their intertwined fingers and felt a blush creeping onto her cheeks once more.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Enjolras leg jerked all of a sudden at her request, his face contorting into an aghast expression. "Anne-Laure, it would be entirely improper─"

Anne-Laure clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Stay. It's freezing out there, you'll catch your death on your way home if you go out now. If you stay, I'll even blow out the candles. I won't need them if you're here. So why don't we save our lives for one night, yes?"

Anne-Laure leaned forward a bit more and planted a swift kiss on his cheek. Then she hurried out of the room, calling out about setting up an extra cot for him.

Enjolras was left alone at the table, shaking his head and grinning.


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

 _(A Worthy Cause)_

 _A/N: Hello! Sorry for the wait. I actually made it to New York to watch a Broadway performance of Les Mis_ and _I almost met Aaron Tveit. Almost. It was a long-shot but the chance was there. Sigh. Enjoy this chapter! Enjoy a little bit of lovestruck Apollo!_

* * *

 _He is certain that night had long since passed into morning at this point. His eyes should be drooping, battling for the right to surrender to slumber. But he is wide awake, hyper-aware of the soft enchantress that sits across from him on the flimsy old mattress, only a few paces away, with her legs folded beneath her. It is entirely improper, and that only causes Enjolras' heart to beat faster._

She asked if she could sit with him until the candlelight flickered out. If Enjolras had any intention of getting sleep tonight, he should have said no. But he had accepted her request, trying not to show how having her so close affected him. They both held warm cups of tea in between their fingertips. What was it for again? Relaxation? Something meant to soothe? A distraction for their hands?

"A thief…an imposter…" he murmured before taking a sip. He eyed the way Antoinette's ─ _Anne-Laure's_ head shot up in surprise. Her fingers fumbled about and were barely able to cradle her teacup for a moment. Enjolras waited for her to get settled before speaking again.

"Anne-Laure Gardet – is that your true name, mademoiselle?"

Anne-Laure nodded wordlessly, guilt rising up in her chest. She had no choice but to lay out the truth now, bare and unmasked. Inviting Enjolras to stay the night left her with no other way. He was craving for answers, yearning to understand why she is the way she is and why she was the way she was.

"Before you began selling dresses, you stole and pretended to be somebody you were not. Why is that?"

He was no longer offering her the luxury of silence. When Anne-Laure resolved to telling Enjolras just exactly what he was getting into by being with her she didn't realize it would be such a difficult task. Revealing herself as something dirty and criminal made her afraid. What would he think of her once he knew she had pilfered into the pockets of men and women like him with the hands he had held a few hours ago? Men and women like him, lesser than him, greater than him – no one in the towns before Paris were safe from Anne-Laure Gardet's thievery. And up until the previous, no one Paris had any inkling that she was deceiving them all. She thrived and survived on such evil acts. Enjolras was a man of innate justice. He could turn her in for all her wrongdoings in the past and present and Anne-Laure would willingly allow it, just because it was him. Why was she working so hard to show him what he was getting into? Shouldn't she be afraid of what she was throwing _herself_ into?

"I wasn't much different from those little street children that hole up in the elephant at the Bastille every night. I had to get food into my stomach somehow. Stealing and pretending were the easiest ways to do so." Anne-Laure finally muttered, not once meeting Enjolras' eyes. He frowned at that and set his teacup down on the floor beside the mattress before scooting closer.

"And then? Don't stop there, my dear. Tell me how you became the extraordinary woman sitting before me." Enjolras wrapped his hands around hers and couldn't help but let out a little chuckle when some tea sloshed out of the cup at her recoil of surprise. Anne-Laure looked down at the hands he pressed against hers before finally looking into his eyes.

"Listen to me, Anne-Laure." Enjolras implored. "It won't matter if you stole jewels from the king or pickpocketed through a crowd of hungry beggars. None of that would change the fact that I am so in love with you it's blinding. Everything you do blinds me, and there's nothing left for me to do but follow in your wake. Tell me you used to steal thread from Madame Deslys or tell me you've stolen textbooks from students a day before exams simply for fun, it won't mean anything to me anymore. Because I know you rose above all of that, and that just makes me adore you all the more. You're a brave girl who fought for her right to live, not just survive. It may have taken some time, but you found your way to justice and goodness in a world where everything was sinister and sneaky. No matter what you tell me next, that's what I'll be thinking. So please, my dear, do not be afraid to tell me."

Anne-Laure couldn't help it – she flung her arms around his neck in one fluid movement. For a moment, Enjolras sputtered as he made sure her tea didn't spill and as he tried to comprehend what just happened. When he heard the dry sobs she tried to suppress by the side of his ear, he immediately drew her closer so that their bodies were pressed against each other. He had one arm around her waist and another wrapped around her shoulders as he listened carefully to the confessions she whispered in his ear. Anne-Laure hurriedly told him about her rough childhood and her life with a generous man in between sobs. She told him the story of chasing this generous imposter all the way to Paris and losing him. She told him about reuniting with the man she saw as her father last night, explaining why she had to break her promise. The whole time Enjolras held her close, refusing to part from her until her hurried breaths and body-wracking sobs simmered down into silent tears against his shoulder.

She was practically on his lap by now, her arms unwound from his neck but his arms still around her. Anne-Laure drew circles on his chest with one hand and Enjolras could hardly breathe without being hit with her earthy scent of fresh morning dew and clear water. There had never been another time when she was this close to him for so long, and the primal part of Enjolras' instincts longed for more. But he reigned himself in, knowing all too well that this moment was completely emotional and of great importance to Anne-Laure. He couldn't ruin this with letting such wild and consuming thoughts take over.

Finally, she was in his arms and not second-guessing herself. Anne-Laure was within his embrace and Enjolras would go as far as to say that she was his to love and to care for. This moment was everything he could ever ask for.

"Thank you for everything, Enjolras." Anne-Laure murmured softly but the sound carried easily enough in the dead of the night. Enjolras responded by holding her tighter and rocking the both of them back and forth for a while.

"I think it might be time for us to retire." Anne-Laure said a few minutes later, shooting a tired glance towards the direction of her room. The cot she had set up for him sat in the middle of her living room, and the entire flat was darkening rapidly as the candles slowly died out.

"Of course." Enjolras agreed easily, but neither of them made a move to untangle themselves from each other.

Anne-Laure pressed her face against his chest briefly, muttering another word of thanks against him. She lifted herself slightly so she could bestow a swift kiss upon his cheek, an action that made Enjolras' heart soar. She remained there for a moment, her lips only a few millimeters from his cheek.

She moved her hand upwards from his chest towards his face and tilted his head slightly so he was facing her more. Anne-Laure leaned in and pressed her lips against his. She meant it to be a quick peck, but the moment she began to withdraw, Enjolras' lips followed hers and captured them into an interlock that was fiercer, more passionate. Anne-Laure let out an audible gasp at this bold move, and Enjolras took this opportunity to deepen the kiss. In no time at all, the pair easily fell into a rhythm that came instinctually to them. Enjolras drew Anne-Laure closer by placing his hand against her neck, coaxing with his lips for her to open up once more like she did with that gasp just moments before. She savored the warm pressure of his lips against hers and responded eagerly. The pair only broke away for breath, ending with their foreheads still leaning against each other's.

"You must think me a scoundrel." Enjolras let out a hollow laugh. He fumbled with his hands again, twisting a grip into the fabric of her dress showing just how much he didn't want to let her go despite the impropriety of the whole situation. "You must tell me to leave your apartment right now at this very moment. I have been dishonorable."

"Do not order me around, monsieur." Anne-Laure whispered back. She grabbed him with a pull of his shirt and pressed one last chaste kiss against his lips before rising up from the mattress. Enjolras watched her figure leave for her room with an astounded look permanently etched on his face. Indeed, he wasn't going to be able to get any sleep tonight.

* * *

He woke to the sensation of someone nearly shoving a slice of bread up his nose. With a messy waving of arms and a sound from his throat that was a cross between a groan and a growl, Enjolras opened his eyes to look up at a smirking Anne-Laure. She held a basket with fresh bread against her hips and had already changed into her workday's wear.

"Good morning, monsieur. I do believe you have a class to get to in a few hours. Of course, you must start the day right with a hearty breakfast, yes?"

Well, this was certainly an interesting way to wake up. (It was also something Enjolras could get used to.)

Enjolras pushed himself up to a sitting position and Anne-Laure spun away with a peal of laughter. As she set her dining table for two, she told him he could freshen up before breakfast with the water basin in the corner of her bedroom. Since he had long lost his qualms about propriety after the night, he easily strode into her room and followed her orders without a fuss.

When he sat at the table with her for breakfast, Enjolras could not remember a time when he felt this sort of happiness. Anne-Laure evoked within him a special kind of warmth that he was certain would be irreplaceable in his heart. She laughed freely with him, stole bread off his plate, and he caught her hand in his whenever he wished and planted kisses upon them (he was sure he was free to plant kisses upon her lips as well). Last night she opened herself up to him, made herself vulnerable in a way she admitted she had never truly done before. He treasured that honor, swore to himself that he would never hurt her or betray her. Enjolras knew that with the ambitions he set his sights on it was a foolish thing to promise but he made it nonetheless. Anne-Laure was worth every promise, kept or otherwise.

"I must leave now if I am to get ready and make it to class with enough time." said Enjolras regretfully at the end of their meal. Again, he was holding one of her hands in his and Anne-Laure was smiling, a slight flush splayed across her cheeks.

"Actually, Monsieur, I was hoping you might allow me to choose your clothes for today."

Enjolras' head rose to look at her. "You truly wish to do that?"

Anne-Laure let out a chuckle and nodded. She had chosen outfits for him before on countless occasions. The first few times when he kept coming back to her shop on the pretense of needing more clothing as an excuse to see her, the next times when she needed someone to model her creations, and other instances when she was feeling restless and longed for something to do. But this request seemed more intimate, especially after the events that occurred last night.

The warm feeling remained in Enjolras' chest as he waited for her to finish rummaging through her store downstairs. She returned a few minutes later and dumped a pile of clothes in her bedroom. Enjolras followed her and got changed behind the changing screen in her bedroom. He hurried a little, his heart beating faster knowing that she was waiting for him (and the time for class _was_ nearing). When he exited with the clothes donned on, she let out a bright smile and clapped her hands together happily.

"And how does it look, mademoiselle?"

"See for yourself!" Anne-Laure exclaimed in between joyous laughs and tugged him by the arm to pull him over to a full-length mirror situated on the opposite side of her room. She smiled as they inspected their reflection before them. Truthfully, Enjolras wasn't viewing himself in the mirror at all.

"You always make my clothes look stunning, monsieur. Thank you."

Enjolras chuckled and fingered the piece of cloth fluttering over the area of his chest. "It is I who should be thanking you for being so thoughtful. Who knew I would be wearing a cravat to university?"

"Is it too much?" Anne-Laure worried her lip as she joined his hand in touching the piece of cloth.

" _Non_ , my dear, everything is perfect. Thank you." Enjolras was in the beginnings of pulling her closer for a sweet kiss he had longed for since waking up but she pulled away to inspect his reflection in the mirror once more.

"Not just yet, monsieur. There is one final detail we must take care of." She turned away from the mirror and rummaged through the drawers in the vanity set next to it. Anne-Laure took out a thick velvety ribbon and ordered him to sit down on her bed. Anne-Laure thought nothing of it, but Enjolras gulped inaudibly as he followed her instructions. She made to stand before him as soon as he was seated and reached over to gather his golden hair into a single clump leading to the base of his neck. Enjolras shamelessly breathed her scent in as she stood so close to him while she tied his hair back with a ribbon. When she was done, she stepped back to view her work.

"There. Now it's finished."

"Is all you see to your liking?"

Anne-Laure blushed brightly at that and Enjolras couldn't help but laugh. Nonetheless, she nodded with a roll of her eyes. Without rising from his seat, he pulled her closer to him once more by the waist and held her so he was slightly looking up at her and her down at him.

Anne-Laure's lips were slightly parted and Enjolras couldn't help but press a chaste kiss against them. She giggled a little into the kiss and responded just as lightly.

"This is what I've been longing for for so long." Enjolras murmured against her lips.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, monsieur."

"Never apologize for us, Anne-Laure. You don't know how happy you make me."

"I might have an idea."

He smiled and placed one more kiss against her cheek before rising to his feet.

"How can I leave you now, with you looking at me like that, mademoiselle?"

Anne-Laure sighed and shook her head, finally pulling away from him and stalking towards the exit without another word. Enjolras laughed and gathered the rest of his belongings before following her.

(In his mind, he mused about how he would follow her anywhere.)

* * *

Unsurprisingly, not even a bratty client could ruin Anne-Laure's mood today.

She heaved a sigh of relief once she was out of the door of the Parisian residence of the English Baron Egerton, home to his mistress Corinne Beaumanoir and the baron's three bastard daughters. The four women had commissioned fashionable dresses from Anne-Laure's shop three months prior and always had alterations made at every fitting. They were finally satisfied with the product, most probably because the London season was nearing and, despite their ineligible statuses, would obviously be going to England for the event.

The only thing that kept Anne-Laure sane during the entire ordeal was the thought of Enjolras' lips on her own. Memories of last night flooded Anne-Laure's mind, making her blush as she ambled down the street. Where did she find the boldness to do what she did last night? Was it his intoxicating yet genuine words? Was it the way he looked at her like she could do no wrong except deny him? Whatever it was, it made her wild with a craving for anything Donatien Enjolras. It consumed her thoughts and it would have mortified Anne-Laure to no end had he not conveyed how he was feeling very much the same towards her.

The Baron's home was a half-hour walk away from Anne-Laure's shop, doubled into an hour when she was carrying four heavy gowns along. Anne-Laure was happy to have time for herself. The way Madame Deslys looked at her this morning was telling enough of just how out of it the young dressmaker seemed to be. She needed to collect herself and get into the mind state of a working woman of Paris. If she didn't, Anne-Laure feared she wouldn't be able to get anything done at all.

The crowd around Anne-Laure was thickening, the people's voices were getting louder, and without her realizing it Anne-Laure was being pushed along their direction by eager folks of all ages. Anne-Laure was being led to a makeshift stage where a man stood above everyone, preaching about something.

"Our motherland deserves more than an incompetent leader sitting on the throne! For too long, she has been afflicted with the disease of wretched kings and politicians. Their rotten virus remains in the streets of our honorable nation, bringing down the lowest of the low and raising the undeserving. Will we stand for this? Well we sit around and praise a king who knows nothing? Will we allow France to be made a fool once more?!"

There was a round of angry noises going through the crowd as people cried 'No!' The man on the platform continued to preach similar things, seeming to rile up the crowd from some sort of fight. What did they intend to do, Anne-Laure wondered as she tried to make her way out of the square. They weren't near any royal or government establishments – there was no one in a high enough position who would hear these people's cries.

"We must bring back the ideals the honorable Napoleon Bonaparte stood for! We mustn't allow more diseases like republican delusions and grandeur illusions of palaces infiltrate our beloved country again! We must fire up another revolution; use the power of the people to put the right man back on top!" Several cries of agreement rang through the crowd. Men and women – the proletariat of Paris – seemed to heartily agree with the speaker. When the speaker was angry, they were angry. When he was inspired, they felt inspired. When he was distraught, they were distraught. Everything the speaker felt was instilled into the hearts of these people.

This passionate and charismatic leader brought to mind another character for Anne-Laure. Enjolras filled her thoughts again, this time visions of him preaching to a crowd just like this one with an unmatched heat and passion. Would it be like this from now on? Would he and his friends rally crowds to go against the law?

"We must fight! Every time we see those disgusting beings who believe they represent a skewed version of justice, we must show them what the people of Paris are made of! We will spit on their faces and call them cows before we ever succumb to whatever rules they think they can use to oppress us and raise the bourgeoisie in turn. We will not stand for the people who step on us! No, my brothers, we will fight against them!"

Anne-Laure's thoughts filled with panic as she tried to push her way out of the crowd that only seemed to push forward with a surge. Sure, she believed there was a lot that needed to be changed in French society. But violence? Surely they didn't need to go to such extreme measures against fellow Frenchmen, especially the lowly guards who probably only needed the money. There was no denying that many of the people on top were power hungry and greedy, but violence would only give them more power. It would give them an excuse to exercise their advantages and bring the working class of Paris down once more.

The roaring of the crowd was ringing in Anne-Laure's ears. She struggled to squeeze herself out of the way. A ruckus like this was bound to catch the attention of the patrol, and Anne-Laure really didn't need to be here when that happened.

Finally, there was a piercing yell.

"The police!"

All of the people – whom just moments before were declaring war against the gendarmerie – began scattering about, fleeing the scene like dogs with their tails in between their legs. The hypocrisy and disloyalty of these people astounded Anne-Laure, but it did give her the chance to get away as well.

But not quite fast enough.

In between the knock of someone's elbow here and the jerk of someone's hand there, Anne-Laure was forced to fall to the ground hands first, leaving her in plain sight for the incoming police.

"Mademoiselle! Are you quite all right?!" the nearest gendarme exclaimed.

Anne-Laure looked up in surprise. She was staring straight into the eyes of Inspector Javert.

The two eyed each other for a few fateful seconds. Anne-Laure stared at him with bated breath as she waited for Javert to call her out, exclaim in surprise and fury when he would recognize her. She waited for him to dredge up his memories of the little gamine girl who hung around the Monsieur le Mayor. She waited for him to recognize the little girl who would wreak havoc around a little town by stealing food off windowsills and swiping coins from the pockets of oblivious townspeople.

Javert held out his hand, as if to help me up. "Please, mademoiselle."

' _Could it be? Can he not see that I am a ghost from his past?'_ Anne-Laure thought.

She took his hand and the Inspector pulled her upright.

"Gatherings like this are no place for a young and proper lady, mademoiselle. It would do you good to remember that." he told her in a grave tone.

Anne-Laure couldn't help but let out a little chuckle at that. She knew all too well that he could be saying those very same words to her in another instance, this time in whatever remained of a little rally led by a man in a bright red blazer.

"I will be where the people of Paris are, monsieur."

Javert looked affronted that someone actually dared to defy him. He opened his mouth, ready to scold this ungrateful woman when another figure swooped in.

"My love, there you are!"

Anne-Laure and Javert whipped around towards the direction of the voice. It was Grantaire, a bottle of wine openly swinging around in one of his hands. He teetered over to Anne-Laure, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and planted a sloppy kiss against her cheek.

"The fear in my heart when I lost you, my dear, is inconceivable. Curse these rowdy fools and their unnecessary ruckus. All we wanted was a nice stroll. Next thing I know, I have to use a wine bottle to defend myself from this miscreants in order for me to find you. Thank God the good Inspector was here to protect you. I thank you most sincerely, monsieur, for taking care of my wife." Grantaire removed himself from Anne-Laure to eagerly shake Javert's hand. Both Anne-Laure and Javert stared at Grantaire with wide eyes. Anne-Laure couldn't even tell if the man was sober.

Javert cleared his throat, pulling away from Grantaire's grip. "Of course, monsieur. I will always serve the lawful people of Paris. Now I must assess the situation with the rest of my men. Good day, monsieur. Mademoiselle." He gave a curt nod to the both of them, but Anne-Laure did not miss the way he eyed her suspiciously.

Grantaire wrapped an arm around her once more as Javert walked away, waving away at the man happily. Once he was out of sight, he steered Anne-Laure forcefully away from the scene.

"What did you think you were doing?" he hissed into her ear, practically pushing her off of him once they rounded the corner.

"Believe me, I wasn't looking for trouble." Anne-Laure continued to look at him with an incredulous expression. She could hardly believe the exchange between them and Inspector Javert had happened.

"It would do you good to remember that we can't afford another stunt like this one. If you insist to stick yourself around us at all times, you can't be a suspicious character to the police!" Grantaire exclaimed, seething.

"I would so wish men would stop telling me what to think." Anne-Laure rolled her eyes. "Besides, if you and Enjolras and the rest of them are foolish enough to think you can stage a rally like this one without getting into the police's bad books, then you lot are in for a rather unfortunate surprise."

"Do not call our cause foolish. Do not call _him_ foolish." Grantaire said lowly, stepping forward. His entire figure loomed over Anne-Laure, and before this moment she would have never believed that Grantaire could be someone so terrifying.

"You know that is not what I meant." Anne-Laure insisted.

"I don't know anything about you, _mademoiselle_." He was mocking her, that much Anne-Laure could see.

"I don't understand what I could have done that would make you treat me like so." Anne-Laure said, looking at him straight in the eye. He laughed just then, an ugly and chilling laugh that made her even more nervous.

"You will never understand me, and you will never understand the cause. Stop causing trouble for our Apollo, he has more important things to think about."

Grantaire left Anne-Laure there, sinking into the crowd as a hunched figure.


	8. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

 _(Lovely Ladies)_

 _A/N: Finally. It's finally here. It took a while, and for that I must apologize. There will probably be long waits in between updates, but with that comes longer and more eventful chapters! I just started university and I need to adjust to everything. But there's no way I'm abandoning this story, so don't worry! I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

Anne-Laure entered The Musain slightly out of breath. She had hurried her way down here in an effort to reach the café before sundown. She couldn't deny that the streets of Paris were dangerous for a woman after dark, but she couldn't bear to wait for Enjolras any longer. They made no arrangements for when they would see each other again and it tortured Anne-Laure to no end, especially when she spent most of the day thinking about him.

While thoughts of Enjolras consumed her brain, so did her worries over him and the boys. Grantaire's words rung in her ears over and over again, Anne-Laure had to shake her head to keep focus on more than one occasion.

 _Stop causing trouble for our Apollo, he has more important things to think about._

Such a stark contrast against the words he had said reverently to her the night before. Why shouldn't Anne-Laure believe in the words that came straight from the golden boy's lips? But she was no stranger to how love could blind a person, and to how love can change the way one sees things. Was she going to be a burden to Enjolras, even if he didn't realize it? Yet why would she take the words of a drunkard over Enjolras'?

The whole situation confused her to no end, and Anne-Laure had to take a breath to calm herself. She stared at the staircase leading up to the second floor where she could already hear the bustling noise of the students gathered there. Enjolras had made it explicitly clear to her and the rest of the _Les Amis_ that women were unwelcome in their meetings. To Anne-Laure, that was a completely ridiculous notion but it was also equally as ridiculous to willingly get into an argument with Enjolras. No one could ever truly win over Enjolras, perhaps not even Anne-Laure.

"Well look here ─ is it the dressmaker from rue de la Harpe? What business could'a pretty lady like ya' have here?"

A figure seemed to slink out of the shadows by the staircase and it took a moment for Anne-Laure to recognize her as the same girl who entered her shop and asked after Jean Valjean. Her dress tonight was less ratty, and her hair was fixed as neatly as possible under a red cap as if she took special care of her appearance tonight.

Anne-Laure realized she was staring, and made a show of clearing her throat before responding to her. "Good evening, mademoiselle. I'm usually here to pick up some food for the night. Are you here often as well?"

The gamine girl scoffed. "She calls me _mademoiselle_ and speaks to me as if we are alike, 'ow silly of the girl."

Anne-Laure merely stared as the girl continued to talk to herself.

"She speaks to me kinder than my own mother, for sure. No way will I ever hear an angel like her yell 'Eponine!' at the top of her lungs. Monsieur Marius will probably fall in love with some gentle, two-penny thing like ya'. Say, girl, won't you tell me how to act like a proper lady like yourself? Maybe then, Monsieur Marius will see just how good I can be for him."

"Oh, you know Marius?" It was all Anne-Laure could say in response to her.

The gamine girl laughed again. "Do I know 'im? I practically live with him! He exchanges letters and money with my papa, that kind and foolish boy. He is too good for this city. And you, mademoiselle? How do you know my Monsieur Marius?"

'My _Monsieur Marius?'_ Anne-Laure mused in her mind before answering her. "He is a good friend of mine. He's a regular…customer of sorts in my shop." Marius would certainly be a frequent customer if he actually bought any of the clothes he borrowed.

"Well, it'd be best if you don't have any ideas 'bout him. Monsieur Marius is an important man, he's got no time to worry over ladies like you." Eponine tried to put on a snooty air, but ended up sounding petulant and jealous. Anne-Laure merely shot her a faint smile, the knowledge of just exactly who Marius was in love with pulsating in her mind. Here was a girl who loved Marius like he was her whole world but he was pining over a girl who didn't hardly knew he existed.

Right then, the door of the Café Musain burst open and Marius Pontmercy himself entered. He immediately veered towards the staircase and brightened up at the sight of Anne-Laure.

"Anne! Good evening to you, mademoiselle!" He took her hand excitedly and quickly planted a kiss upon it. Anne-Laure couldn't help but laugh despite the stricken expression written on her face. She also noticed the way Eponine seemed to slink back into the shadows, but her eyes never strayed off their little exchange.

"Good evening, monsieur. Heading up for the meeting?" Anne-Laure smiled at him kindly.

" _Oui_ , I'm afraid I'm running late." Marius let go of Anne-Laure's hand and moved on to scratching the back of his neck in a nervous motion. "I'm in a bit of hot water over that particular problem with the other boys. Would you mind too terribly if I say I was a little late because I walked you here? I'll be forgiven in an instant for that. I can even get Enjolras to come down for you."

"Of course you can use me as your excuse, Marius." Anne-Laure chuckled and refrained from rolling her eyes. She was far too fond of this boy. "And getting Enjolras to come down and meet with me for a few minutes would be lovely."

"Perfect. Thank you, Anne!" Marius exclaimed and grabbed her hand, planting another kiss there before bounding for the stairs. Momentarily, he spun around to speak a few words to Eponine who straightened up in an instant. Her flirtatious smiles and the way she moved closer to him with every word went amiss with Marius as he fluttered away quickly.

When he was gone, both girls eyed each other. Eponine seemed to scowl at her before returning to the shadows at the rumble of footsteps coming down the stairs.

Anne-Laure couldn't hold back her smile as Enjolras arrived (with the rest of the Les Amis trailing behind him) to meet her. There was a big smile on his face as well as he stepped close to her and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips. Anne-Laure smiled into the kiss and felt a flush growing on her cheeks as the students behind them cheered and howled rowdily. Combeferre even went as far as to step forward and clap Enjolras on the shoulder.

"We knew something was amiss with our fearless leader tonight!" Jean exclaimed, earning a round of laughs from the rest of the boys. Marius caught Anne-Laure's eye and he smiled brightly at her, genuinely happy at this new progression. Anne-Laure could hardly contain her own happiness, overjoyed that Enjolras didn't see the need to hide their new status from everyone else. An improper public kiss in front of everyone else certainly made things clear.

"Aw, _ma cherie_ ," Courfeyrac wailed, suddenly grabbing her away from Enjolras' grasp. "I thought what we had between us was true and good. How could you leave me for that stone of a man there?" He was joking, that much was made clear by the mirth in his eyes and the smile creeping up on his lips.

"And when have you ever heard of a girl who could resist the charms of the golden Enjolras?" Anne-Laure teased back, shooting Enjolras a shy smile.

"I am hurt! I am betrayed!" Courfeyrac swiftly turned to Enjolras. "Monsieur, I will have to challenge you to a duel to salvage my bruised honor."

"I assure you, monsieur," Enjolras played along, stepping forward to wrap an arm around Anne-Laure's waist (earning another round of 'Ooohs' from the Les Amis). "Your honor will not come out unscathed if you choose to battle with me for the affections of our darling Anne."

"Let the battle begin!" Bahorel exclaimed and the others cried out in agreement.

"Boys, let us save our energy for our revolution, yes?" Combeferre interrupted in a softer voice. A mischievous glint had yet to go from his eyes.

"Enough talk of fighting, tonight is a night for love." Jehan declared causing the rest of the boys to spit meaningless insults at his gentle sentiment.

"If you were all going to come down here anyway, would it not have been more practical for me to have gone upstairs?" Anne-Laure asked, looking around at all them. She then turned to face Enjolras with a raised brow. "If it weren't for your _inviolable_ rule."

Enjolras looked ready to retort but Feuilly immediately cut in.

"Come on, Chief. It's only one night." he said with a smile.

"Come along, Mademoiselle Antoinette!" Courfeyrac said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her up the stairs.

"Anne is just fine, monsieur." she corrected as they all made their way upstairs, a grumbling Enjolras and a sneaky Eponine following behind.

"Eh? Well, if that's the case, then you must call me Courf." Courfeyrac said with a wolfish grin as they arrived on the second floor.

"Courf? Why that just sounds ridiculous." The pair of them laughed and parted ways, Courfeyrac to a table littered with pieces of paper and Anne-Laure to look out at the window overlooking the street below.

Despite Jehan's desire for a revolution-free night, the conversation immediately turned to the group's plans once everyone was settled. Anne-Laure pretended to turn a deaf ear to it all, content with looking out the window and stealing glances at Enjolras every now and then. The gamine girl joined her at the windowsill and although some shot her curious looks, none of the Les Amis questioned her presence there.

"Do you come here for Monsieur Marius, then?" Anne-Laure asked her.

"Do you come 'ere for Monsieur Apollo?" the other girl countered. Anne-Laure smiled at the nickname.

"I come here for all of them. Each one of them is very dear to me." Anne-Laure said earnestly, making her on the receiving end of a skeptical look from Eponine.

"You do know they're never gonna win right? Every man 'ere is practically a dead man because of what they're planning." Eponine concluded but looked apathetic by the entire situation. On the other hand, Anne-Laure felt her heart lurch forward at the statement. The girl said it so plainly, like it was a matter of fact. Every man in this room was going to die for the rebellion.

"What's your name?" Anne-Laure asked instead, not caring how unsubtle her change of topic was.

The gamine girl seemed apathetic to this as well. "I'm Eponine. And you're Antoinette Gardet. You run Monsieur M's and make a lot of money every month. You send this money to your benefactor overseas. You never overcharge for dresses and lots of the poor women of Paris frequent your shop. It's all a bit too strange that you make so much money when you sell your dresses so cheap. But I suppose your dresses are so pretty that even the rich can't turn their noses away."

She said it so bluntly, so plainly that it made Anne-Laure feel nervous over it.

Still, she let out a short laugh. "Well, you certainly seem to know a lot about what I do."

"It's my business to know things, _Anne_." Eponine gave her a wide smile that came off as menacing instead of kind. She even cackled a bit. For some reason, Anne-Laure got the feeling that the other girl was actually trying to be friendly. It simply just wasn't coming out the right way.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Eponine." Anne-Laure said, and the girl simply huffed and turned her attention to whatever was going on outside the window.

Anne-Laure looked around the room and spotted Grantaire seated alone at a corner table. He looked about ready to pass out, a number of bottles surrounding him. Anne-Laure wasn't even sure if he was with the rest of them when they all came downstairs. The words he said to her earlier today came rushing back to her, and Anne-Laure let out a deep sigh as she struggled not to dwell over it.

 _You will never understand me, and you will never understand the cause._

 _Do not call our cause foolish. Do not call him foolish._

 _Stop causing trouble for our Apollo,_

 _He has_

 _more important_

 _things to think about._

"Tonight is one of the nights they will write after our time, long after we're gone. Tonight will be counted in the history books – tonight is a night essential for our revolution. Our names will be immortalized in the hearts of Frenchmen because of nights like tonight." Anne-Laure whipped around at the sound of Enjolras' voice. Even the Les Amis seemed entranced by the beginnings of his speech, each one of them leaning forward and on the edge of their seats. Enjolras' tone was quiet, but it still overpowered every single mind in the room. Even Grantaire raised his head slightly to listen to his chief.

"The men and women who came before us did great things – they stormed the Bastille, they powered through Reign of Terror, offered their own king and queen to the guillotine, and fought for every man's right to freedom, equality and brotherhood. But our beloved _Patria_ has taken a step back, but not by her own choice. Now we have another king, and anyone who claims him to be any better than the last is a complete fool. Patria needs her children to start the fight once more, and you citizens in this room tonight are the spark. We will start the revolution that will set things right again. All around Paris, there are many like us. There is talk of barricades and revolutions. We will join our brothers in the fight for freedom. We will not sit idly when people are being oppressed. Any suffering for a fellow Frenchman is suffering for us. We were not born to suffer, we were born to be free. Will you pledge yourselves to this cause? Will you give your lives so that we can see a better France tomorrow?"

For a moment, the room was silent - until Combeferre and Courfeyrac simultaneously rose from their seats and raised their glasses. Combeferre gave Enjolras a curt nod and Courfeyrac voiced out his allegiance with a solid "I will." The rest of the Les Amis followed immediately afterwards, each one of them pledging themselves loyal to the cause and to Enjolras.

Anne-Laure watched on from her place by the windowsill, her face a stoic mask for the storm brewing within her. There was the man she loved so passionately speaking about something he truly believed in – he was all fire and he set those around him ablaze. Who was Anne-Laure to pull him away from this? He was born to be their leader – he was born to lead France's new revolution.

But was Anne-Laure strong enough to support him with everything she was, she wondered. Could she kiss him goodbye everyday knowing he was in constant danger of being arrested or executed? Could she knowingly send him to his death when the time for it came?

Anne-Laure was surprised to see Eponine handing her a glass half-filled with wine (probably from the still sleeping Grantaire). The gamine girl fearlessly raised a glass and Marius sprang over, spinning her around in delight. (Anne-Laure noted sadly how despite his obvious happiness, the smile on his face was nothing compared to the ecstatic grin he wore at the mere sight of Cosette.)

Anne-Laure raised her glass slightly and her eyes met Enjolras'. He didn't walk over to her but he did give her a small nod.

She knew she would follow this man to death and more. But could she follow his cause? Would she give him up to the revolution?

Anne-Laure walked home that night still unsure.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Monsieur le Mayor returned to Anne-Laure's shop a few minutes after opening time. Madame Deslys entered the back room were Anne-Laure was hard at work on another one of her creations to call her out.

"Mademoiselle Gardet, Monsieur Fauchelevent has returned with his daughter. She is ready for her first fitting."

Anne-Laure's head shot up in surprise. So much has happened since the last time she saw the Monsieur le Mayor. Having him here again was like entering a whole other life. In a way, it really was like that. They were both remnants of a lifetime long over.

And he brought Cosette this time! Anne-Laure found herself fumbling in excitement. She had perfected Cosette's dress for this first fitting, slaving over it all night last night that she didn't even stop by the Musain. Enjolras had visited her after the nightly meeting to check up on her, surprised to find her still working in the back room. She didn't tell him who the dress was for. She realized she didn't even tell him that her long lost father figure was the same man they had seen in the Luxembourg Gardens. She ended last night with a swift kiss on his lips and a not so gentle shove out of her shop. She heard the laughter of Combeferre and Courfeyrac who must have accompanied him and she found herself chuckling too.

Now, it was time to take a trip back to the past in order to connect it with the present.

"Madame Deslys, would you please bring out Mademoiselle Fauchelevent's dress out for her?" Anne-Laure pointed out a pale blue dress on display in the corner and Madame Deslys immediately hurried over to pick it up. Annaliese, one of the sisters who worked during the weekends, immediately left her work sewing buttons on blazers in order to assist Madame Deslys. The older woman usually only worked on weekdays, but when she learned the wealthy Monsieur Fauchelevent was returning with his daughter that day, she made the effort to be there. The sisters were less than happy as the woman had a habit of inducing terror into them.

Anne-Laure stood from her workbench and shook out her strained fingers. The fabric she was working with shone a little in the light and it was as if Anne-Laure could see little sparkles lining her fingers. She looked down at her attire, her usual dark blue work get-up proving to be a little too drab for her taste. This was the first time she was going to meet Cosette. Anne-Laure wished she was more dressed up for the occasion, but she got carried away with the gown she was sewing and there was no time to change now. They were waiting for her outside.

Anne-Laure stepped out and her eyes immediately found Jean Valjean's tall looming figure. Beside him stood the same girl Marius had stared at so longingly more than a week ago. Cosette was wearing an admittedly pitiful black dress that was a tad bit too tight on her. She looked Anne-Laure with a nervous look on her face and Anne-Laure couldn't help but smile at that. She shouldn't have worried so much earlier. This was a first for all of them here.

Madame Deslys and Annaliese set up Cosette's new dress next to them, and Cosette audibly gasped at the sight. Anne-Laure couldn't help but preen a little at that. She was exceptionally proud of this little number she made for Cosette. The neckline scooped lower than the dress Cosette was wearing now, but nothing too daring that it would give Monsieur le Mayor a heart attack. The skirt of the gown flared immediately at the waist and the sleeves were flowy and not too constricting. Seeing her now, Anne-Laure had ideas for more ideas rushing to her head. Something green and grand perhaps, and then something yellow and slimming. Cosette could do with a good hat on her head and more ribbons. The blue dress could also use some nice gold and white lace trimming around the edges.

Anne-Laure cut her train of thought when she realized they were all just standing around and staring at the dress.

"Thank you Madame Deslys, Annaliese. I can take it from here." Annaliese immediately nodded and returned to the backroom. Madame Deslys looked like she was about to argue when new customers entered the shop and she immediately shot off, unwilling to allow Serena (Annaliese's sister) to take the reins while she was still around.

Anne-Laure turned to Valjean and Cosette. "Good morning, Monsieur Fauchelevent. Mademoiselle, my name is Anne-Laure Gardet. It is my greatest pleasure to meet you."

Jean Valjean wore a grin so wide she was brought back to a time when they still lived in that little town. Every evening they would join for supper and Valjean wore that same smile when Anne-Laure told him about her day and all the new things she learned. Now, he was a proud father, watching his two beloved daughters meet for the first time.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle Gardet. I'm called Cosette." said the blonde girl shyly and dipped into a little curtsy.

Anne-Laure laughed a little at that and shot Valjean a look which he returned by raising a brow. Either the Fauchelevents were too polite or Anne-Laure was spending too much time around the Les Amis that she picked up their less than proper habits.

"You must call me Anne or Anne-Laure," Anne-Laure insisted, gathering Cosette's hands into her own. "We're sisters now after all, right?"

Cosette's beaming face made Anne-Laure's lips split into a grin. She looked to Valjean and smiled even wider at the tender look on his face. She was sure he was memorizing this moment, inscribing it into his mind so he would never forget the day Cosette and Anne-Laure met.

"Well, here's the dress I made you," Anne-Laure said, letting go of Cosette and gesturing to the piece. "Any first impressions? Is there anything you want me to change immediately before we proceed for the fitting?"

"It's exquisite," Cosette gasped and stepped closer to the dress. She held her hand out and was almost touching it. She looked to Anne-Laure first. "May I?"

"Of course. It is yours."

Cosette gasped audibly once more as her fingers brushed the fine fabric of the dress, a smile creeping up into her face once more.

"It feels wonderful. Should I try it on now?" Cosette asked eagerly.

" _Oui_ , let me call Serena over so she may assist you."

It took a few minutes after Cosette ducked into the dressing room for her to step out in Anne-Laure's work. The blonde girl still had a smile etched on her face as she showed Valjean and Anne-Laure how it looked.

"You look beautiful, daughter." Valjean said. He turned to Anne-Laure "You have done a wonderful job, dear."

"Thank you, monsieur." Anne-Laure bowed her head a little then faced Cosette.

"The color suits you well, the monsieur was right. We'll just need to tighten it up a bit in a few places and add some lace trimming and gold accents around the edges. Would that be alright with you, Cosette?"

"Yes, those sound like splendid ideas. Thank you so much, Anne-Laure."

"It's my pleasure, dear. Serena, would you please get some pins from the back room and lace samples? Your dress can be finished by tomorrow at this rate. I have a handful of ideas to run by you too if you wanted any more dresses."

"Oh, yes! That sounds wonderful!" Cosette exclaimed and turned to her father. "Oh, please, Papa, can I ask Anne-Laure to make more dresses for me? I just love this one so much! It's so beautiful! I've never seen anything like it!"

Valjean chuckled at her excitement. "Of course, my dear. I don't think I can deny either of you anything."

When all was finished for Cosette's fitting and measurements for two other dresses were taken, Valjean suggested that Anne-Laure join them for dinner at their home in Rue de Plumet. Cosette was thrilled at the idea and practically begged Anne-Laure to accompany them. With assurances from Madame Deslys that the shop would be in good hands for the rest of the day, Anne-Laure acquiesced and joined them in a carriage bound for their home.

Anne-Laure met their kind, old housekeeper Toussaint and sat with Valjean and Cosette at the table as they waited for lunch to be served. Cosette wasted no time asking about Anne-Laure's life in Paris, and Valjean quietly watched them interact from the head of the table.

"How did you become a dressmaker, Anne-Laure? And how did you end up running your very own shop?"

"Well, I've always loved making dresses, ever since I was a child. Your dear Papa was a great help when it came to improving my skill. He had all the ladies in the fac─town we lived in before tutor me."

"Is he not your father too, Anne-Laure? Why do you only say he's mine?"

For a moment, Anne-Laure frantically eyed the Monsieur le Mayor who seemed a little intrigued by the question too. He gave her a soft smile and gestured for her to answer the question.

"Of course he's my father too. He also took me in when I had no one like he did with you. It's just been so long now, I suppose, I forgot what it was like to have a father."

"Well that won't do! Papa, Anne-Laure should come live with us." Cosette declared in a no-nonsense tone. "She won't have to live alone anymore because she has us now. Right, Papa?"

Valjean smiled at the two of them serenely. "Dear Cosette, Anne-Laure has a life of her own now. She will always be our family, nothing will ever change that. But we can't ask her to turn her life upside down because we're together again."

Anne-Laure eyed Valjean and a look of understanding passed between them. She felt an immense wave of respect for this man, and couldn't be more proud to call him her father.

"I see," Cosette looked down for a moment, then shot up again when she had a new question for Anne-Laure. "What was Papa like when you two were together? Where did you two live? What did he do?"

Anne-Laure chuckled a bit nervously and shared another look with Valjean that clearly said _'How could she know nothing?'_ Valjean merely looked back at her, his own eyes telling her to _keep secrets, please_.

"Those are questions you should ask him, Cosette." Anne-Laure waved it off good-naturedly even though she was sure all their thoughts were in turmoil. "Let's not talk about that now. What I'd like to know is how your time in Paris so far has been. Are you enjoying your stay in the city?"

"Oh, yes!" Cosette exclaimed, seeming to forget the earlier conversation. Both Valjean and Anne-Laure visibly deflated with relief. "It is so different here than in the convent. I quite enjoy walking around the parks Papa takes me too – even our little garden here is lovely! And the cathedral is just a divine structure, it's so beautiful. And I love being able to help the poor every Sunday, that's when Papa takes me too donate some _sous_ to them after hearing Mass. And the people are so fashionable around here – it's like they never seem to run out of dresses! And now I've met you and Paris has just gotten a whole lot better!"

Cosette rambled on happily, sometimes with Anne-Laure chiming in and other times sending the whole table into a fit of laughter. Anne-Laure could tell Cosette never had a lot of this – this kind of special companionship. The girl was wasting no time in cherishing this newfound relationship. Anne-Laure was glad for that. Cosette was the sweetest girl she has ever met – so kind, loving and innocent. She could see why Valjean loved her so much and had a strong drive to protect her. It would break Anne-Laure's heart to see such a gentle soul go through the ugliness that was the reality of life.

Sometimes Anne-Laure would turn to Valjean and see the look on his face while Cosette talked happily and animatedly. He wore a sad sort of smile that was heartbreaking for Anne-Laure to see. The man was certainly happy, but he still bore some sadness. Anne-Laure couldn't imagine why. She and Cosette were here with him now. What was there to be sad about?

"Say, Anne-Laure?" Cosette piped up a few minutes after lunch was served and the four of them Toussaint were already digging in. "Have you ever been in love?"

Valjean spoke up this time. "I am also very curious about this matter. Won't you share with us, dear Anne-Laure?"

Anne-Laure resisted the urge to glare at him. The Monsieur le Mayor almost looked gleeful.

"There is someone courting me right now." Anne-Laure admitted, not looking at any of them as she pushed food around her plate.

Cosette let out a girlish squeal. "Oh please, Anne-Laure! You must tell! Who is he? How did you two meet ? How did you two fall in love?"

Anne-Laure laughed. "Slow down, Cosette. You might choke on your food."

"Please, Annie!" It was Cosette's new nickname for her, and when Anne-Laure had first heard it, it sent a warm feeling into her chest. This was what having a family again felt like.

"He's a student at the university. He's intelligent and he likes to buy clothes from my shop. That's all I could ever ask for really." Anne-Laure said vaguely, making a disappointed look appear on Cosette's face.

"Come, now! You must have more to say than that!"

"Perhaps I will introduce you to him sometime. You'll understand then." Cosette brightened up at the prospect of meeting new people and the four carried on with their meal.

When lunch was over and Cosette had left the table to wash up and it was just Anne-Laure and Valjean left behind, the man spoke up.

"I was afraid I would do her wrong by keeping her away from the world, in that little convent she speaks so fondly about." Valjean started, looking out the window and into the garden. He filled Anne-Laure in on the grand chase between him and the Inspector soon after he had picked up Cosette from her halfway house. He told her about the convent they found themselves in, the man called Fauchelevent who Anne-Laure remembered from the cart incident and from whom Valjean adopted his new name from, and how he was content to spend the rest of their lives in that little convent. But he feared that Cosette, in time, would resent him for it. That was the one thing Valjean would never be able to handle. That's why he could never bring himself to tell her about his life before. He was afraid Cosette would hate him for it. Hearing about Anne-Laure's life now made Valjean even more upset about his choices of keeping Cosette away from the world.

By the time he was finished with his confession, Valjean was heaving deep breaths and Anne-Laure could tell emotions were slamming into him left and right. She got up from her chair and took his hands with hers, just like she did with Cosette earlier.

"Everything you've done, monsieur, you've done out of love. Now it's your choice whether to tell Cosette about your past or not, but I can tell you for sure that she would never hate you. It's so obvious to everyone that she loves you so much. You brought her away from such a dark place and filled her world with light by loving her. I know what that feels like, monsieur, believe me. I could never hate you, not truly."

At the end of her little speech, Valjean sniffed slightly before enveloping Anne-Laure into a hug which she fiercely returned. He whispered swift words of thanks before releasing her. The pair of them smiled at each other, silently conveying how glad they were to be together again. They were a family again, now nothing could ever bring them apart.

Anne-Laure finally broke the silence. "Well, if your goal was to show her the real world, then what would you say to allowing her spend a day with me? Just the two of us. We could meet at church and do your usual charity routine. Perhaps a turn around the Luxembourg Gardens as well if weather permits it. You'll get a whole day to just yourself and you can meet us in my apartment for supper."

The suggestion made Valjean pause for a moment, but his train of thought was interrupted when Cosette burst into the room.

"Oh, Papa! Annie's idea sounds lovely! Oh please, please allow it! When have you ever had a day to yourself? It shall be the perfect opportunity for us all!" Cosette exclaimed.

Valjean still seemed iffy about the idea, but shot Cosette a sad smile. "I would never wish for a day alone, my dear. But if the idea pleases you so─"

"It does, Papa! It truly does!"

"Who am I to refuse the two of you? How does Sunday next week sound?"

Anne-Laure grinned triumphantly. "Perfect."

* * *

"Working so late into the night again? If my memory serves me right, you were in this exact same position last week."

Anne-Laure whirled around from her work on a wide green dress to find Enjolras standing at the doorway of the shop's back room, looking as if he had just come from another meeting. The ink stains over his hands and his rumpled collar were telltale signs.

Anne-Laure huffed out a chuckle and turned back to her sewing work. "Then you will know how this goes. Are you really going to wait for me to shove you out again? What if every single one of the _Les Amis_ is standing outside this time?"

"I'll have you know that I'm alone tonight." Anne-Laure didn't notice that he stepped _much_ closer to her. His voice next to her ear sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"Please, Enjolras, no distractions. I need to finish this." Anne-Laure groaned. She felt him smile against her neck and couldn't help the next shiver that went through her body.

"But I need you," Enjolras insisted, this time not hiding the way he planted smoldering kisses along the curve of her jaw.

"What would the boys say," Anne-Laure's breath hitched slightly, "If they found out their beloved Chief could be so whiney?"

"They would say I am the luckiest man in the world because I can call you mine."

Anne-Laure finally stopped working and turned to look at him. Enjolras knelt beside her and opened his arms out invitingly. She laughed and wrapped her own arms around his neck as he pulled her off her seat and onto his lap. Anne-Laure was grateful that Madame Deslys was already done for the day and wouldn't catch them in such a compromising position.

"Our _Patria_ is lucky that such a brave and passionate man is fighting for her," Anne-Laure murmured and played with the curls that fell just in front of his eyes.

"My body fights for Patria, but you know my soul is yours." Enjolras told her with a fierce look.

"Again, you leave me wondering if it's Jehan who's actually courting me." Anne-Laure giggled and Enjolras growled with frustration, grumbling about how she should stop with the Jehan thing.

They sat together, wrapped in each other's arms, for a few silent moments before Anne-Laure spoke up once more.

"Will you come and meet my sister and father tomorrow?"

"Of course. I only have classes in the morning tomorrow. Where shall I meet you?" Enjolras agreed instantly.

For the whole week, Anne-Laure talked little of anything else than her newfound family. She always kept a tight lid on details such as how her father and sister were the same people they saw in the Luxembourg Gardens weeks ago, but she was generous about things like how sweet Cosette was and how little her father had changed even after so long. Enjolras enjoyed these conversations with Anne-Laure. They brought out a tender side to the girl that he had never seen before. He was overjoyed that she was happy to find her family. He couldn't say he felt the same way about his own, but he wanted everything in the world for Anne-Laure. Through her stories, he had become fond of this family of hers as well.

"Would you be alright with walking me and my sister back here from the cathedral? We'll be out off to the side since she would like to give alms to the poor after we hear Mass."

"It would be my pleasure, dearest."

Anne-Laure smiled and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "What have I ever done to deserve you, Donatien?"

"I should be asking you that, Anne."

Anne-Laure didn't get any more work done on Cosette's dress that night.

* * *

"Enjolras,"

The blonde law student turned his gaze away from the church to come face to face with one of his fellow Les Amis. It was Marius Pontmercy. The two certainly weren't expecting to meet each other here.

"Enjolras, is anything the matter? What are you doing here?"

At first, Enjolras eyed Marius then the gamine that lingered behind him. Then he looked at the rickety building they exited and understanding dawned on him.

"Do you live around here, Pontmercy?"

Marius sputtered incoherently as he scrambled to respond. "Y-Yes, that's right! I used to share a room with Courfeyrac. But really, Enjolras, what is that you are doing here? You don't come around these parts usually. Have I missed a meeting again?"

Enjolras actually snorted. "Believe it or not, Pontmercy, not everything is about you. Anne asked me to meet her here, so I am waiting for her."

"Here? Next to all the beggars and prostitutes?"

"Don't talk about your fellow citizens like that." Enjolras scolded. "But, yes. Anne-Laure told me to meet her here in this location."

"Anne-Laure?" Marius asked, confused for a moment before he shook his head. "Nonetheless, this isn't a prime place for a woman to visit unaccompanied."

"Precisely why I am keeping a watchful eye for her." Enjolras agreed, and then shot a side glance at Eponine who had remained silent during their entire exchange. "You, citizen. Have you any idea when Anne is due to arrive?"

"I dunno, never seen that pretty girl around here before." Eponine muttered while twiddling her thumbs. Even she was subdued under Enjolras' prowess. "Maybe she'll be out when the Mass is done."

"Hmph, very well. Thank you." Enjolras gave her a curt nod and turned his attention back to the church. Marius didn't know why he was so bewildered by the whole situation. Perhaps it was seeing a man like Enjolras here near his shabby abode. His time away from the grandeur of the Gillenormand residence still hadn't taken away Marius' sense of pride. But Marius should know more than anyone that Enjolras never judged based on economic status.

The church bells rung, signaling the end of Mass. People poured out through all the exits, and Enjolras strained to keep a sharp eye so as not to miss Anne-Laure and her sister. Even Marius and Eponine stood alongside the Apollo, searching for Anne-Laure as well.

"There she is," the two heard Enjolras whisper with something akin to relief. They both turned to see Anne-Laure's bright blonde hair standing out in the crowd. She was making her way towards them, often looking behind her at another blonde-headed figure. Anne-Laure was smiling at them, giving a little wave as she wove through the crowd.

"That girl with her…" Marius began, stepping forward. "Enjolras, who is that with her?"

Enjolras ripped his gaze away from Anne-Laure to turn to the girl he assumed to be Anne-Laure's sister. It was the same girl from the Luxembourg Gardens from weeks ago. She was also wearing one of Anne-Laure's creations, a unique piece that Enjolras had seen on Anne-Laure's work table a few days back.

"My God, she is beautiful." Marius breathed in awe. At the back of his mind, Enjolras noted how Eponine had scampered away.

"Come, Pontmercy, before we lose them in this crowd." Enjolras ordered and set off to meet Anne-Laure, Marius following closely behind him as he continued to murmur about the beautiful _Mademoiselle Ursula Lanoire_.

"Enjolras!" he heard her call out, and his name on her lips set a smile on Enjolras' face. He was about to respond when Anne-Laure's expression changed rapidly. Her head whipped to the side where a shabby shack was set up. Enjolras' brows furrowed as he quickened his pace to get to her. Every intelligent person in Paris knew those shacks were mere set-ups made by criminals to take money from the pitying and pitiful rich. It would do no good for Anne-Laure to be near that sort of establishment.

"Wait, Cosette!" It was too late. Anne-Laure had already ducked into the shack, following her oblivious sister.

When Enjolras lost sight of her, his heart went racing. He shoved his fellow Frenchmen aside so he could get closer to the shack, but it seemed with every push forward, he was sent five paces back. Marius could also be heard constantly asking Enjolras what happened to the beautiful girl and Anne-Laure.

" _AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!_ "

A commotion started at the sound of the shrill scream. People were darting across, toward, and away from Enjolras and Marius. They were left unable to move forward. Enjolras craned his neck as he searched for Anne-Laure. She had to get out of that shack unharmed or so help him─

"It's the police, disappear! _It's Javert!_ " They heard Eponine scream.

No sooner than that was said, Anne-Laure burst out of the shack, pulling a distressed Cosette behind her. The shack itself seemed to collapse as several others pulled out from inside it, running away in all directions.

All the runaways were rounded up by the incoming police who rode in on their horses. Inspector Javert surveyed the crowd, ordering the public to step back. Enjolras growled in frustration but knew he had to step back. It wouldn't do to become a suspicious figure when their revolution was on the rise. And Anne-Laure and her sister were able to get away mostly unscathed, or so Enjolras hoped.

Enjolras' heart dropped to his stomach and Marius' breath hitched when they heard Inspector Javert's next words.

"And where have the ladies gone and why on earth would they run?"


End file.
